Ron Weasley and the Aeternus Gate
by PA Mills
Summary: COMPLETED.Harry's meddling and curiousity accidentally send Ron to the future. Ron isn't thrilled by what he sees there, but he's told he cannot return to his own time. Can he find a way home to change the future? See inside for barely extended summary
1. Today

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all associated names, concepts, etc are the property of JK Rowling. My name is not JK Rowling. That means Harry Potter, et. al are not mine.  
  
**Author's Note:** I'm only too happy to talk about "author's note-y" type stuff, but I won't put them in the chapters. When view a chapter, by golly, you want to see a story! But feel free to drop me a line at milroy42 [at] yahoo.com and ask. Also, I was by no means sure of what to rate and how to categorize this story. I probably over-rated it, so if you're looking for more juicy stuff or more violence...sorry. And if you don't think it's angsty at all, sorry again. Hopefully you like it anyway.  
  
**Barely Extended Summary**: Harry, hopelessly obsessed with the archway from the Department of Mysteries, messes (as usual) with things he can't handle—and Ron appears to pay the price. He finds himself ten years in the future, but it's a future when everyone thinks he died. He's not thrilled by what he sees there, so he tries to find a way back—only everyone tells him he can never go back.  
  
Chapter 1  
-OR-  
"Today"  
  
"What do you reckon it is?" Ron asked. Silence, for the moment, answered him, as his two friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, peered intensely at the...whatever it was in front of them.  
  
"Well..." Hermione started.  
  
"It's a machine of some sort," said Harry.  
  
"Well, I can see that," retorted Ron, "but what do you think it does?"  
  
"It must be important, if Dumbledore wanted to keep it here, at Hogwarts, instead of at the Ministry," said Hermione. She bit her lower lip in concentration.  
  
It was the middle of the trio's sixth year at Hogwarts--a surprisingly low-key year considering the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time was lurking and plotting an all-out war in the wizarding world. Now that the Ministry of Magic had "officially" recognized Voldemort's return, Hogwarts had taken on an air of a military academy. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a member of the Order of the Phoenix and the newest Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, had been taking an approach to class not unlike that of the DA of the year before. The heads of the Houses posted daily news reports in the common rooms, for the benefit of those that did not subscribe to or trust the _Daily Prophet_. Students occasionally caught glimpses of Members of the Order--still Dumbledore's most trusted allies against Voldemort and his Death Eaters--in the halls and in the offices of the teachers.  
  
Even with the bustle, however, the three friends got bored.  
  
Thus, when they got word of a mysterious contraption hidden in the castle, they immediately began a search for it. After a few days of fruitless searches, the three stumbled across the Room of Requirement. It was in that room Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves, with the enormous machine looming in front of them. Unlike the year before, when "Dumbledore's Army" had used the room as a training ground, the Room of Requirement now took the form of a cavernous stone chamber. From a raised platform in the middle of the circular room, the device threw its shadows over the entire room; it was so dusty and cobwebbed that the three friends had the impression that it had been there for ages and was not likely to move again. It did not have the sleek, metallic look that most fancy Muggle machines had; rather, it was a hodgepodge of parts thrown together. Were it not for a few tubes, wires, and rods connecting the various component parts, an observer might have simply taken the machine to be a pile of discarded magical junk. The three friends started to circle around the device.  
  
"Wait a minute!" cried Ron, "look there. It's the Mirror of Erised! I knew some of this stuff looked familiar!"  
  
"And my time turner--from third year!" added Hermione. The small, hourglass-shaped trinket was no longer on a necklace, but rather hooked up to a number of other pieces of the machine with a great many wires. Harry was still pacing around the entire device, hoping to glean some insight into its function. Suddenly, he stopped, eyes widening.  
  
"The arch," he said, his voice barely audible, "it's _the_ arch." Hermione and Ron ran around to see the object of Harry's awe. As he claimed, it was indeed the crumbling arch from the Ministry's Department of Mysteries.  
  
In the months following Sirius's death, Harry had become obsessed with finding ways to resurrect him. Hermione had to drag him away from the restricted section of the library when she found him poring over texts describing necromancy--a Dark Art governing life and death. Ron had confided to Hermione that Harry occasionally woke up screaming, then fell back asleep, muttering Sirius's name. Neither of those experiences, however, showed Harry's mania as much as his obsession with the archway, though. Both Ron and Hermione had listened countless times to Harry's frantic theories on the enigmatic arch: "The light that hit him--it wasn't green! It wasn't the killing curse! Whatever it was just knocked him into the arch and he's on the other side. I'm sure of it! If we could go back and get a better look...I know we could get him out of there! I just know it!" Now that the decrepit arch was here, in front of Harry, he was all but mad with the desire to fling himself through it to find his godfather.  
  
"Harry, NO!" cried Ron, blocking Harry's path to the arch with his entire body.  
  
"Harry, it's not the same!" exclaimed Hermione, "See? There are controls here, and the arch itself is supported by some of the other parts of the machine..."  
  
"Then maybe it's to get Sirius back!" cried Harry, "That's got to be it! We have to try!"  
  
"It could be dangerous..."  
  
"Look," Harry said, with only barely controlled fury in his voice, "We're in the Room of Requirement, aren't we? I need to use this thing. It's here for us to use. It's obvious!"  
  
"But how, Harry, how?" pleaded Ron, "I mean, y'know I'd do anything to help you out and get Sirius back, but maybe Hermione's got a point. Maybe we could wait for someone to help, like Dumbledore or someone..."  
  
"NO!" bellowed Harry. "You haven't had dreams like I have...for two summers, all I've seen is people dying. We can save Sirius NOW, and we are going to do it." Shoving Ron aside, Harry strode up to the controls and studied them.  
  
"Stop him, Ron!" said Hermione. Ron moved to pull Harry away from the control panel, but Harry spun around, brandishing his wand.  
  
"STAND BACK!"  
  
"Hold on, mate!" stammered Ron as he backed away quickly. The now maniacal Harry turned his attention once more to the arch and the control panel next to it. Upon closer examination, he found--exactly one button in the middle of the stone tablet. It was level with the rest of the surface, with a circle of stone cut out around it. As he tried to discern what the button was for, Hermione and Ron looked at each other with worry.  
  
"Ron," she hissed through clenched teeth, "we've got to stop him. Somehow...we've got to get him away from that arch. It could be dangerous..."  
  
"And how, exactly, do you propose to do that?"  
  
"Well..." started Hermione. Before she could finish, Harry's voice croaked out across the chamber.  
  
"Hermione, Ron, _please_. Help me," he begged. He turned towards his friends. The Harry that a moment ago had threatened his best friend with his wand was gone; instead of a raging, raving lunatic, Harry seemed to be much smaller than he had been before. His shoulders sagged, his voice was cracked and broken, and instead of a manic look in his eyes, all that Ron and Hermoine could see was defeat. He blinked his teary eyes before continuing. "You don't understand. You can't. I hope you never can." He paused again, trying to swallow tears or a sob. "Everyone I've ever cared about--everyone but the two of you--suffered. My parents, Sirius. They died. They died because of me. Now, maybe, I have the chance to get one of those people back. You want me to wait? I can't. Please. Help me."  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione, in a voice even smaller than Harry's. "It would be a bad idea. I just know it..."  
  
"ERRGH!" roared Harry, back to his berserk self. He whipped around back to the controls and pushed the button. Nothing happened. Furious, he repeatedly tried to jam the control panel, but Ron leapt towards Harry and tackled him to the ground. Twisting around on the ground, Harry drew his wand and tried to aim it at Ron.  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!" shouted Hermione, desperately trying to disarm Harry.  
  
"_Stupe_--" Harry managed to say before his wand flew from his hands. The wand, though, reacted already to Harry's partial command, and a thin stream of reddish light leaked out of the end of the twirling wand. The light hit not Ron, but the myriad of wires surrounding the archway, which began to spark. The raised platform shook a little bit, and soon the entire room began to tremble slightly.  
  
"We've got to get out of here!" cried Hermione, heading for the door. Ron started to follow, but stopped when he saw that Harry was frozen in place, eyes fixed on the stone archway. Each time the room shook, pieces of the arch came loose. As it collapsed, Harry tried desperately to get through it. Ron dove and tried to knock Harry out of the air, but as the two flew off the platform, the entire machine exploded. There was a deafening bang and a brilliant flash of blue light...

* * *

Harry came to in the infirmary. He jerked up quickly then sank back in to his bed even more quickly as his entire body exploded in pain. His eyes frantically searched for some sign of his friends. As he opened his mouth to speak, Madam Pomfrey hurried over towards him and made "shhhhh"noises.  
  
"No, no, Mr. Potter. You've had a nasty shock. Don't try to speak."  
  
"Wh..." he managed to get out before she cut him off.  
  
"Mr. Potter, please. Try to remain quiet." Madam Pomfrey bustled off to attend to the student in the bed next to Harry. He tried to turn his head to see who, exactly, that was, but his neck hurt too much. His efforts were again interrupted, but this time by Professor McGonagall, who did not look at all happy about the current situation.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she began, in a very business-like tone, "you are lucky to be alive." Harry managed to groan in acknowledgement. She continued, "Professor Dumbledore will want to speak to you personally when you are able to leave the infirmary. Until then, do exactly as Madam Pomfrey tells you to do when she tells you to do it. Am I understood?" Harry managed to groan again.  
  
Suddenly, McGonagall's face softened. "I don't know how you survived that blast, Mr. Potter, but I'm amazed you did. You have a remarkable ability to survive..."  
  
"Professor," he managed to croak, "Hermione...Ron....are they okay?" He was not encouraged by the fallen expression on McGonagall's face.  
  
"Your friends..." she started, "Hermione is doing well. She was far enough away from the explosion that she will be fine."  
  
"Ron...?" Harry whispered.  
  
McGonagall looked more distraught than Harry had ever seen her. "Mr. Weasley...is gone. There was no trace of him in the room. I'm sorry, Harry." She turned swiftly, but not swiftly enough to hide a tear from Harry. She marched out of the infirmary. Harry, too stunned to even speak, just sank back into his blankets and hoped harder than he had ever before hoped that he was having a bad dream. _Ron...dead?_ he thought. _No, not gone...not Ron, too. Not Ron, too...._ This time, though, the finality of the words settled into Harry's soul and crushed him. Each sob shook his body and made him hurt.  
  
Finally, he fell back asleep, and enjoyed the first of a new series of nightmares. 


	2. I Don't Think I'm in Hogwarts Anymore

Disclaimer: The name on the Harry Potter books is "JK Rowling." The name on this story is "PA Mills." Given that the books are far better selling (and hit the market first), I'd say it's safe to say that I'm the copycat, and that none of this stuff is mine.  
  
Chapter 2  
-OR-  
"I Don't Think I'm In Hogwarts Anymore"  
  
Ron Weasley heard the bang and saw the blue light and felt himself flying through the air. He hit the wall hard and crumbled to the floor like a sack of flour. When he tried to shout out to his friends, the words died in his throat. He tried to pick his head up and look across the room, but his neck screamed with pain, and Ron fell towards the floor again. Although he could not see anything, he heard voices.

"Oh my God!" said a feminine voice. It was very familiar to Ron, but he could not quite place it. It was subtly different from whoever he knew with a voice almost like the one he heard.

"_Ron_?!" said a second voice. This time, Ron was able to place the voice immediately. "Harry?" he tried to say, but the words came out as a strangled gurgle. _No, not Harry_, he thought. _It's not quite right_. Ron heard footsteps running towards him then felt someone lifting him from the floor. "UNGGH," Ron moaned. Every movement hurt.

"Harry, don't, you're hurting him," said the first voice. This time, Ron managed to connect it with Hermione, but couldn't explain the difference in the voices. "Ron, is that you? Are you all right?" asked the not-quite-Hermione.

When the person who had picked up Ron finished turning him around, Ron was able to see that the two people were indeed Harry and Hermione--but they were different. Harry looked like he either was trying to grow a beard or he needed a shave, and Hermione had longer, tamer hair. Ron knew there was more to it, but he couldn't think of it. His head hurt too much; he tried to speak again, but could not.

"Ron..." started Hermione, "you're hurt. I'm going to put you to sleep for a while. When you wake up, you'll feel better. I promise." As she started to wave her wand, Ron noticed that the machine was still standing on the platform. _That's odd_, thought Ron, _I thought the machine was destroyed_. Before he had time to truly ponder this discovery, however, sleep overtook him.

* * *

When Ron woke up again, he was much more comfortable. He must have been moved to the infirmary, because he was in a bed with blankets piled high all around him and a massive pillow supporting him from behind. He tentatively tried to turn his head from side to side, and, to his pleasant surprise, he found that doing so no longer hurt. He studied his surroundings. Wherever he was, it was not Hogwarts's infirmary. It looked more like a bedroom...

"The Wheezy is awake!" said a squeaky voice at the foot of the bed. "You is feeling better, sir?" Ron looked down at the foot of the bed and saw two large eyes staring back at him.

"Dobby?"

"Yes, yes, it is Dobby, sir, it is! Is the Wheezy better now? Is you wanting to see your friends now?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, Dobby, but first..." Ron's voice trailed off as Dobby ignored his question. The house-elf sped out of the room, leaving Ron with the room to himself. He surveyed the room around him. It definitely had the comforts of home, and was decorated with a great many pictures. Smiling wizards and witches chatted with each other, apparently oblivious of Ron's presence. He thought he recognized some of the people in the pictures, but before he could get a better look, he heard someone approach the door.

"Ohmygosh," said Hermione breathlessly as she poked her head in the door, "Harry, he's awake!" She quickly rushed over towards Ron. "How do you feel?"

"Uh...better, I guess. Where am I? And what's going on here? You and Harry...you're different..."

"Listen, Ron, we'll explain, I promise. Just give us a moment," she said. Harry (he was different, but _how_?) walked into the room.

"Ron," he said simply.

"Harry, what's going on here? What happened? With the arch...and weren't you hurt, too? And where _am_ I?" Ron fired off the questions in a single breath. His two friends returned his eager look with rather worried expressions of their own. Ron's stomach sank even lower. When his two best friends were this serious, there had to be bad news. "Harry? Hermione? What's wrong? Where is everybody?"

"Ron," started Hermione, "this is tough, but..."

"Ron," interrupted Harry, "that day, when we first found the Aeternus Gateway..."

"What do you mean 'when we first found'? Wasn't that yesterday or something? Or did Hermione's sleeping charm work too well?" He faked a laugh at his joke, but his friends only smiled weakly . Hermione took a deep breath.

"Ron, keep in mind we don't know exactly what happened..." she started.

"What do you mean?"

"Ron, will you please let me finish?" said Hermione. "Today...isn't when you think it is. The day we destroyed that arch...that was ten years ago."

Ron just stared at his two friends. _It's got to be a joke_, Ron thought, _Harry's just trying to have a laugh...but Hermione, she wouldn't play along, would she?_ His friends' faces were still grim, though.

"What?" he managed to stutter. "Ten years?"

"I know it's hard to believe--but it's true. Don't we look different? And this," said Harry, pointing at the surroundings, "this isn't Hogwarts, is it?"

"Okay, guys, you win. You get your laugh. The joke's over," stammered Ron. "Really, what happened?"

"Ron," said Hermione, "this is just as strange for us as it is for you...we had no idea that you'd come out of this Gate...but you're ten years in the future."

"Prove it. Prove that you aren't two sixth-year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, trying to play a joke on your poor old friend Ron," Ron said. _It can't be_, he thought, _I'm waiting for the punchline...._

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, as if they were trying to agree on how to answer Ron's challenge. "Well," said Harry, "we look different, don't we? And we don't sound the same, I'd bet."

"True, but you could have used an Aging Potion or something, couldn't you have?" countered Ron. "I just can't believe it. I just can't."

"Here," said Hermione, waving a newspaper at Ron, "it's today's _Daily Prophet_. Check the date."

"Uh-uh," said Ron. "That's easy enough to fake."

Hermione looked frantically around the room. She pointed to a photograph, and Harry picked it up and gave it to Ron. In the picture, Ginny Weasley, in a bridal gown, wore an enormous smile, outclassed only by the smile worn by Neville Longbottom, who was sitting in the seat next to her. Harry and Hermione were also in the picture, looking very much like they were enjoying each other's company. The bride and groom kissed, and Harry and Hermione clapped in the background. Ron dropped the picture into his lap. "D'you mean to tell me," he said incredulously, "that my sister marries..._Neville Longbottom_?"

"Well, yeah, she did," said Hermione, "they're really quite happy together, and..."

"Faked," said Ron. "It's faked. Let me see them and ask them. No, wait, even then..."

"Look, Ron, I know this is difficult for you to swallow. It must be very, very strange for you...but imagine how we feel. We thought we'd never see you again. And here you are," said Harry. "We've sent a letter to your parents; they're on their way right now." An awkward silence settled over the room.

"Okay," said Ron, "let's say that what you say is true. I am in the future or whatever. Can I ask some questions?"

"Shoot," said Harry, with a smile.

"Where am I?"

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Our summer home," said Hermione.

"Doesn't look the same...much cheerier. Wait a second! _Our_?"

"Yeah," said Harry, who was smiling again, "_our_." He took Hermione's hand and held it up so Ron could see the ring around her finger. "Five years this month." Ron just looked at the two of them, searching for some slip of the face, some twitch of the eye--anything to tip him off that this was just a big joke.

"Sirius left everything to Harry," said Hermione, "so we live here in the summers. During the rest of the year, we're at Hogwarts."

"Hermione, there's no way you've flunked for ten years. Harry, maybe, but, you?" Ron smiled weakly.

"No, I teach Transfiguration," Hermione smiled warmly at Ron.

"Youngest teacher in Hogwarts history," added Harry, "and I'm married to her!"

"What about you, Harry?" Ron asked, "What do you do?"

Harry paused before answering. "I guess you could call me a sort of a bum. I don't really have a job..." Seeing Ron's confused look, Harry tried again. "I do some assorted jobs for Hogwarts, but most of the time I...research."

"_You_? Research for a job?" Ron couldn't believe that Harry, even in a joke, would pretend to study for a living.

"It's a long story," conceded Harry. "I promise I can explain it later. But now's not the time"

Disappointed, Ron decided to change the subject. "So you don't know how I got here?"

"Nope," said Harry, "I've already got some theories, but I can't be sure. Be patient."

"Well," said Ron, "if you are telling the truth--and I'm not saying I totally believe you yet--now what?" Harry and Hermione exchanged another look. This time, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

"Ron, however you got here, we do know that there's no way to go back..."

"We don't _know_ that," interrupted Harry.

With a hint of impatience, Hermione continued, "we think there's no way to go back, and even if there was, you shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"If you went back...you would change things--history. That would be really, really bad," said Hermione. "So, I guess, you should start to get used to this being the present. I know that's hard, but..." The sad smile returned.

"But that's what you have to accept," finished Harry.

Another prolonged silence fell over the room. Ron looked back and forth between Harry's and Hermione's faces, both of whom looked back at him. All three made an effort to smile; none of the three entirely succeeded. Ron's attention turned to the photographs on the wall, recognizing now many of the people in the pictures as older incarnations of his friends from school. Ginny and Neville, of course, and a few of Seamus Finnegan, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil, his classmates at Hogwarts. A few of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were scattered throughout the room; Ron noticed Mad-eye Moody twitching nervously and eyeing a glass of punch nervously in one picture, taken at a party of some sort. He shook his head in amazement.

"We can tell you more later. You need to rest," Hermione said finally.

"But..." started Ron.

"No, Hermione's right. You should rest," said Harry. "Besides, you'll have a lot of questions, and I'm not sure that I'll be ready to answer them."

"If you need anything, just ask Dobby. He'll be in and out of the room," said Hermione as she headed for the door. Harry followed. Ron watched the empty doorframe for a few moments, then turned to look out the window. _What the hell is going on_? he wondered.

"Is this for real?" he asked the empty room.

"You better believe it, sonny," answered Mad-eye from his picture.


	3. Tomorrow's News

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah...it's all the property of JK Rowling.  
  
Chapter 3  
-OR-  
"Tomorrow's News"  
  
Ron picked up the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that Hermione had given him. The date was ten years later than he thought it should be. _Even still, it's nothing Hermione couldn't have done with some quick Charm work_. Ron frowned. He skimmed through the rest of the paper, looking for any tips that he was indeed when his friends told him he was. The front page showed it was a pretty slow news day; some story about a Floo-network malfunction made headlines. He paged through the front section, but nothing really caught his attention until the editorial page. One of the columnists had written "Wizard/Muggle Relations Crucial to Reconstruction Efforts." His interest piqued, Ron read further:

It is well known that those who do not learn from the  
mistakes of history are doomed to repeat them. As oft-quoted as  
this saying is, seldom is it heeded. The Ministry of Magic is  
to be applauded for its efforts to reconcile the bloodline rifts  
within the wizarding world. It has been only eight years since  
Harry Potter again triumphed over He-who-must-not-be-named,  
ending the Dark Lord's second bid at a Reign of Terror, but  
already in our world are showing signs of forgetting the  
sacrifices of those who opposed the forces of the Dark Lord. He-  
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was infamous for his hatred of Muggles or  
wizards of mixed bloodlines. His "purges" killed hundreds of  
innocent Muggles and wizards alike.  
In his last known message to the wizarding world, ex-  
Minister of Magic Albus Dumbledore stressed the importance of  
not only the acceptance of all heritages into the wizarding  
world, but also acceptance of Muggle culture in general. "[You-  
Know-Who] masterfully played on our inherent mistrust of the  
Muggles," wrote Dumbledore in his famous Farewell Address, "if  
we wish to negate the possibility of a war like the one we just  
survived, we must make it our responsibility to truly understand  
the people with whom we share our planet."  
In his short tenure as Minister of Magic, Dumbledore  
certainly tried to promote education about Muggles. His abrupt  
departure left many wondering if his initiatives would be  
continued.  
Thus, Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley should be commended  
for his efforts to raise Muggle Awareness and for his efforts to  
pass anti-Muggle/mixed bloodlines-discrimination laws. "They  
really are remarkable, Muggles," the Minister was quoted as  
saying at one recent press conference, "the ways they get by  
without magic." He also has publicly chastised those who claim  
"purity of bloodlines" is a significant factor in everyday life:  
"Some witches and wizards still labor under the illusion that  
coming from an all-wizard family makes a person superior. This  
is clearly not the case; one of the most powerful wizards of our  
day, Harry Potter, is of mixed blood." The Minister has gone to  
great lengths to downplay his own wizarding heritage, "not  
because I'm ashamed but because it doesn't matter."  
As another election year approaches, we should all be  
aware of the efforts of the Weasley administration on behalf of  
wizard/Muggle relations. If we do indeed wish to learn our  
lessons from You-Know-Who's rise to power, then we must continue  
on the course set by Albus Dumbledore and followed faithfully by  
Arthur Weasley.

Speechless, Ron dropped the newspaper in his lap. _My dad? Minister of Magic?_ He looked back at the paper and read the editorial again...there was no mistaking it. How could Hermione have faked an entire copy of the _Daily Prophet_? And all the photos?

"I'm in the future!" he announced to the room. Several of the people in the pictures turned to look at him, then went back to whatever they were doing. He threw back the blankets and tried to get off the bed. The simple act of standing tired him, and when he did manage to stand, he got so dizzy he plopped right back down on the bed. Just then, Dobby poked his head around the corner.

"Is the Wheezy needing anything, sir?"

Ron looked at the house-elf before answering. Dobby's tastes in clothing clearly had not changed much during Ron's ten-year absence. Dobby wore an orange sweatband around his brow, and he had a number of cheap necklaces and trinkets around his neck. He was wearing a tattered cardigan sweater over what looked like a very dirty undershirt. He had on what appeared to be flannel, plaid pajama pants, and on his belt he had a number of small leather pouches. He had apparently traded in his rather large collection of socks for well-worn slippers that were several sizes too large. Ron couldn't help but smile. "Well, Dobby, maybe, if you could...could I ask you some questions?" Ron was desperate for information about this strange new world he found himself in.

"Dobby can answer questions for the Wheezy, sir!" Dobby hopped up onto the foot of the bed.

"Dobby, are Harry and Hermione playing a trick on me?"

"No, no, sir, no! They is not playing a trick on you, sir, no!" Dobby's already large eyes widened further. "They is telling the Wheezy the truth, sir, they is!"

"Are you working for them now?"

"Dobby is, sir! Dobby is serving the Potters now, sir, and they is paying Dobby and giving him weekends off!"

Ron thought about that for a moment. He was surprised that Hermione allowed a house-elf to work for them at all. "Dobby, when did you stop working at Hogwarts? And how did Harry convince Hermione to hire you?"

"Harry Potter, sir, is even greater than Dobby thought, sir! Harry Potter started paying Dobby after Harry Potter defeated He-who-must-not-be- named again, sir, because he needed Dobby to help take care of Hermione."

"Taking care of her? What do you mean?"

"After Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord, Sir, his friend was not in a good way. Harry Potter took care of her as she got better, and got Dobby to help him, he did, sir."

"How was she not in a good way? What do you mean? What happened?"

Dobby looked up at Ron for a moment, then started to tremble. Ron, sensing what was coming, tried to get Dobby to ignore his last question, but Dobby suddenly regained control of himself and said, "Harry Potter, sir, told Dobby not to be telling the Wheezy. He thought it might upset him."

"Fair enough. Can you tell me, Dobby, if this newspaper is real?"

"It is, sir, it is," Dobby said. Then, with a note of pride, he added, "It is Dobby's newspaper, sir."

"_Your_ paper? You get the _Daily Prophet_?" Ron asked. He had never met a house-elf who kept up with the news.

"Well," started Dobby, "Hermione says that Dobby must be reading and knowing the news, sir." He looked around, then leaned closer to Ron and whispered, "Dobby thinks that Hermione is not understanding house-elves still, sir." Ron had to smile. _Figures_, he thought, _Hermione is still trying to get house-elves to be just like humans._

"Dobby, is my father Minister of Magic?"

"He is, sir, he is! Mr. Wheezy is most kind to house elves, too. He is very good Minister."

"All right, Dobby, can you tell me where Harry and Hermione are?"

"Harry Potter is in his library, sir, and Hermione is with him. Is the Wheezy needing anything else?"

"I'm okay, Dobby, thanks." The house elf popped right out of the room, leaving Ron once again alone. He looked impatiently around the room. _What am I doing? Why won't Harry and Hermione talk to me?_ He threw the _Daily Prophet_ across the room; it hit one of the framed photographs and knocked it off a shelf. The crash of broken glass rang throughout the room. Three figures rushed into the now broken frame, nervously looking around the picture for the cause of the crash.

"_Accio picture_," he said. The photo flew towards him, showering shards of broken glass across the room. Taking a closer look at it, he realized the three people were Harry, Hermione, and himself. They looked young--maybe first or second year. _I remember this picture_, he thought, _this was after Harry fought the basilisk_. Even though it was, by his reckoning, only a few years since he had posed for that picture, it seemed foreign. _It must be ancient history for Harry and Hermione._ Even still, it was nice to know they still thought of him. There was a sudden knock at the door.

"Ron?" Hermione looked expectantly at him. "I mixed up a potion for you. It should help you move out of that bed." She offered Ron a beaker with a milky green substance in it. "Go ahead...it even tastes okay, I promise."

He took a swig, then tried to stand. "I'm still dizzy," he said.

"Well, it'll get better. If you're up to it, we'd like you to come to the library. I'm sure there's a lot you want to know." Hermione's smile gave Ron the only good feeling he'd had since he first laid eyes on that machine.


	4. A Brief History of Tomorrow

Disclaimer: Checks driver's license Nope. Still doesn't say "JK Rowling." I guess that means that she still owns this stuff, not me.  
  
Chapter 4  
-OR-  
"A Brief History of Tomorrow"  
  
With Hermione's help, Ron managed to make it down the hall to the Potter's library. If he was indeed at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, his friends had touched it up quite a bit in the time since Ron was last there. Gone were the relics of Sirius's mother, including her portrait. The embalmed house-elf heads were replaced with candelabras, and the peeling wallpaper and dirty carpets were all gone. Ron would not have recognized the place, had it not been for Hermione, pointing out things he would remember.  
  
"See that discolored spot on the wall? That's where Mrs. Black's portrait was...we couldn't remove all traces of it...and the old gas lights had to go, so we put in electric..." By the time he got to the library, Ron was exhausted. Harry waved him in and motioned to a chair. Hermione let him sink into the overstuffed easy chair and bustled off to get him a drink. Ron looked towards Harry.  
  
From his chair behind his desk, Harry looked almost imposing. For the first time, Ron became acutely aware of the sudden difference in ages between the two of them. Harry still had disheveled dark hair, but it drooped messily rather than sticking out, and it showed some early signs of graying. His round glasses, rather than the taped and often cracked pair he used to wear, were now rimmed in gold. Harry's face showed signs of age, too--for one thing, he needed a shave. Lines marked his face and made him look older than his twenty-six years. His trademark scar still showed through his bangs, but he now had a second, thinner scar along his left cheek.  
  
The greatest sign of his friend's aging, though, was something Ron had a hard time naming. Something in Harry's posture or in his bearing indicated that the ten years between he and Ron were hard ones. His shoulders slumped a bit, and his eyes looked tired. For a man who had not yet reached thirty, Harry seemed positively old.  
  
"Ron," started Harry, sounding much more upbeat than his demeanor showed, "I'm sorry we left you hanging there. I realize we didn't tell you much..."  
  
"That's for sure..."  
  
Harry flinched a little bit. "And I remember how aggravating that can be. So please accept my apology. My first of many." Ron looked back at his friend, wanting to be angry, but finding he couldn't. All he felt, to his surprise, was pity. _What happened to you, Harry_?  
  
Before Ron could answer him, Hermione returned. Ron noticed that Harry's eyes lit up briefly when she walked in, then settled back to their slightly deadened state.  
  
"I hope you're in the mood for tea, Ron," said Hermione as she poured him a cup. "I thought maybe something hot..." Ron smiled appreciatively.  
  
"I guess this is the part where we answer all your questions, mate," said Harry as he pulled out a chair for Hermione. "Again, I'm sorry for not answering earlier..." Ron waved off his apology. "Do you want to ask questions, or do you want us to...?" His voice trailed off.  
  
Faced with ten years' worth of history to learn about, and with a host of questions buzzing in his mind, Ron's jaw just moved up and down for a moment before he blurted out the first question that came to mind.  
  
"Is my dad really the Minister of Magic?"  
  
Harry grinned, giving Ron another glimpse of the Harry he knew. "Yeah! It really surprised us all, but we support him all the way."  
  
"Harry's been one of your father's biggest public supporters," added Hermione. "How did you know?"  
  
"I read the _Daily Prophet_ that you gave me," said Ron, "I couldn't believe it."  
  
"He's been right popular, mate, really he has," said Harry. "He's actually in the States right now, at a conference with their Minister of Magic. We're still awaiting the return owl, but I'm sure he'll be here soon."  
  
"What about the rest of my family? Or anyone else? I mean, what _happened_?"  
  
"Is that all you want to know?" Hermione said with a smile. Ron's ears got a little red. "Don't worry about it. You want to talk, Harry, or should I?"  
  
"Go ahead, sweetheart," said Harry, who settled down further into his chair. Ron turned expectantly towards Hermione, who took a deep breath and began.  
  
"You were really missed, you know that? Dumbledore called a special school assembly to address the problem...it really shook everyone up." Hermione did not look like she was enjoying telling this story. "He-- Dumbledore, I mean--actually apologized to the school for not being entirely forthcoming about the Gateway he was keeping there, and..."  
  
"Wait a minute," said Ron, "What's a Gateway? Is that what we found?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "It's short for Aeternus Gateway. They're...complicated. I know a little bit more about them..." At this, Hermione snorted. Harry ignored her and continued, "I know a bit more about them now than we did then. All he told us was that it was an experiment that he was personally running, because he thought it would help against Voldemort."  
  
"So he blamed himself more than anyone else, Ron," said Hermione. "While he told Harry and me later, in private, that we should have known better than to mess with something that complicated, he mostly blamed himself." Ron felt a pang of guilt for putting his friends through such a trying time.  
  
As if he read Ron's mind, Harry quickly added, "Any blame that Dumbledore didn't take himself, I take. That's the second of many apologies...that day I lost control. I'm sorry." Ron, remembering first the crazed look in Harry's eyes in the Room of Requirement, then the tired look from a moment ago, managed to mumble an "it's all right," but Hermione kept going.  
  
"Actually, just a few weeks after your, um, death, the trouble really started. Voldemort, I mean--Harry and I were still really upset about what happened..." Ron nodded, and she continued. "He started his attacks then. He started by attacking Muggles--not half-bloods, or wizards and witches of Muggle parentage, but innocent, oblivious Muggles. The Ministry had to scurry all over Britain to hush it up, much less catch those responsible. While the Ministry was busy with the attacks, a number of Death Eaters attacked Azkaban and freed the Death Eaters there. Malfoy, Lestrange...all of the ones we stopped the night at the Department of Mysteries...they all escaped right away.  
  
"As you can imagine," Hermione continued, "Hogwarts was falling apart. Those that had grown up in the magical world had been raised to fear Voldemort so much that it was only Dumbledore's presence that kept them from total panic. Those from Muggle families weren't much better off, because all of Voldemort's targets so far were Muggles."  
  
Harry interrupted at this point. "I had no great adventure that year, no final battle with Voldemort's forces. My struggle--our struggle" he added, looking at Hermione, "was to simply survive that year. Dumbledore called on us to keep the morale up, and we did what we could, but any hopes we had of sending our classmates off in a good mood were destroyed when Voldemort himself appeared at the Ministry of Magic and assassinated Fudge. Everyone panicked."  
  
"Fudge got it?" asked Ron incredulously, "Who took over for him?" Harry and Hermione looked at each other before answering.  
  
"Umbridge," they answered in unison.  
  
"WHAT?! That hag, Minister of Magic?"  
  
"She may have been atrocious, Ron, but she was anti-Voldemort," said Hermione. "Clueless though she was, she had seniority, and she just got the position. Frankly, no one really thought it mattered...most people thought all was lost."  
  
"Just because Fudge got it, people thought everything was lost?"  
  
"It wasn't so much that Fudge died, it was that he died, literally, in his office, by Voldemort himself," said Harry. "The Order wasn't really publicly known, so everyone saw the Ministry as the trustworthy, go-to group."  
  
"Besides," added Hermione, "we could all tell that the Ministry wasn't going to do much in the fight against Voldemort. It was just too disorganized. Only the Order would matter, so it didn't really matter who took Fudge's place."  
  
Harry continued. "What no one realized--no one but the Order, I guess--is that killing Fudge was a diversion."  
  
"What on earth could a stunt like that have been a diversion for?"  
  
"Anything, Ron, it could have diverted attention from anything," said Harry, with a tight grin across his face. "As a matter of fact, though, at the time Voldemort was infiltrating the Ministry, Lestrange snuck into the Durselys' house and killed them."  
  
Ron just stared at Harry, trying to fathom why the Dark Lord would kill the Minster of Magic to divert attention from the murders of three rather clueless, if nasty, Muggles. Unable to come up with anything, he shrugged. "Why would he do that?"  
  
"Because, Ron," said Harry, "the greatest protection I had from Voldemort was not Dumbledore, but the shield my mother created by dying for me. That shield was supported by the Dursleys, as my remaining relatives. So no matter how awfully they treated me..."  
  
"...Vol--er, You-Know-Who couldn't hurt you!" finished Ron. He was glad that he was following this at all.  
  
"Right!" said Hermione, "so Harry couldn't return to the Dursleys that summer, meaning he was vulnerable."  
  
"Dumbledore realized something else at that point," said Harry. "Voldemort tipped his hand. The only reason to strike against the Dursleys was to get at me..."  
  
"Which meant that Harry was Voldemort's main target," finished Hemione. "He wasn't out to take over the wizarding world or become immortal or just kill as many people as he could. He wanted to kill Harry."  
  
"I guess," said Harry, "since I'm sitting here in front of you, it sort of removes any suspense. But that was a tough summer."  
  
"What'd you do, then?" asked Ron, "Bunk in with Dumbledore?"  
  
"Ah, no. Would have been nice, though, wouldn't it? I spent the summer traveling from one 'safe house' to another, all the while under the watchful eye of Professor Severus Snape."  
  
"You're joking!" shouted Ron. Harry shook his head. "Was Dumbledore nuts?" Harry gave a twisted grin.  
  
"I think it was the worst summer of my life--and that's saying something, for a guy who spent every other summer of his life with the Durselys. Added to the fact that Voldemort was running amok and my best friend was dead..." He looked up at Ron. "Dumbledore still thought that my most vulnerable point was my mind--he wanted Snape to work with me, constantly, on Occlumency."  
  
"And Snape agreed?"  
  
"Yeah, but I don't think he was too happy about it. He hated me, too, but he followed Dumbledore's orders. He wanted me to have the best possible chance against Voldemort, after all."  
  
"Why's that?" asked Ron. He found it hard to believe that Snape could ever have wanted Harry to have an easy time with anything.  
  
"I was the lesser of the two evils. If I won, then Snape would have to put up with another 'arrogant' Potter. If I lost though...Voldemort would surely come looking for Snape."  
  
"Find the Death-Eater-turned-Member-of-the-Order and kill him, huh?"  
  
"Exactly," said Harry. "So we practiced for hours every day. It was unbelievable--hour after hour of Snape trying to break into my mind and find my worst memories. He must have loved it..." He seemed to consider saying more, but stopped himself. "Anyway, after a while, I actually got better. I was able to shut him out earlier and earlier."  
  
"Is that all you did all day?"  
  
"Just about. I mean, if _chatting _with Snape was the alternative, then there really wasn't much of a choice, was there? I begged him to let me have other people come to visit, for a chance to get out of the house for a while, but he just kept making me work. I figured there was no way to survive the summer."  
  
"How did you?"  
  
"I almost didn't--and not just because I couldn't tolerate Snape. One day, when I was resting in my room, I heard noises down the hall. I went to see what was going on and found, amazingly, Snape dueling Lucius Malfoy, fresh out of Azkaban, and a few other Dark Wizards. Snape told me to get out of the house, to run, and I ran. I didn't know what was going on."  
  
"AND?" said Ron.  
  
"As luck would have it," said Harry, ignoring the interruption, "as I ran out of that room, I ran into Dumbledore. He was able to chase off the Death Eaters and rescue me, but it was too late for Snape."  
  
"Snape..."  
  
"Died to protect me. That's right. I'm sure my father rolled over in his grave."  
  
Ron couldn't think of anything to say. He had always hated Snape--he wouldn't lie about that. _But he died to save Harry_, he thought, _he couldn't have been all bad..._  
  
"Right away, Dumbledore took me back to Hogwarts where he himself took care of me for last few weeks of the summer," said Harry. "He tried to explain the situation to me as well as he could. Snape used to be a Death Eater, you knew that, right?" Ron nodded. "Well, I guess he did some spying for the Order before Voldemort killed my parents...he needed to be a master Occlumens to hide that. That's why Snape was teaching me."  
  
"He was better than Dumbledore?"  
  
"No, Dumbledore still knew he was better than Snape, but by making me learn from Snape, Dumbledore thought he could impress upon me how much he trusted him. Unfortunately, Dumbledore didn't realize that Voldemort was still able to exploit Snape's status as an ex-Death Eater--namely, as Snape got into my mind, so did Voldemort."  
  
"So he knew where you were and what you were up to?"  
  
"Exactly. And from that information, he knew where to send his Death Eaters to attack Snape and me. When he thought I was getting good enough to block Snape entirely, he decided to attack. As it so happened, Dumbledore was keeping an eye on me and my thoughts as well, and figured out what was happening in time to get us."  
  
"So," said Hermione, "when we got back to Hogwarts that fall, the school was on total lockdown. It was like a fortress, in more ways than one. The Order moved its headquarters to one wing of the castle, so it could communicate more easily with the members of the Order at the School."  
  
"Where were my mum and dad during all of this? And my brothers?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione answered. "Your parents kept working as usual. Your dad went to work every day at the Ministry, of course--he was kind of like Dumbledore's informant there. Your mum went back and forth between the Burrow, where she kept your father company, and Hogwarts, where she drove Ginny crazy." She smiled at this last part. "Your brothers were like frontline fighters. They were really the eyes and ears of the Order."  
  
"Even Fred and George managed to pull off a few successful raids against some unsuspecting Dark wizards," Harry said. "Most of our victories were like that--no one knew about them but the members of the Order. None would turn the tide of the battle, but each one helped."  
  
"That was the way things went, more or less, for the entire year. Not that nothing else happened--but big picture, they didn't matter," said Hermione. "Everything changed, though, one night towards the end of the year."  
  
"What happened?" Ron couldn't believe he had missed all of this.  
  
"Malfoy," said Harry, his voice barely above a whisper. "We always knew Malfoy was a git, but we never really thought he was dangerous."  
  
"If you think about it," said Hermione, "he lived with a Death Eater. His father openly and avidly supported Voldemort. Draco couldn't exactly sit on the fence."  
  
"With Snape out of the castle, Voldemort lost one of his most prized-- though unwitting--sources, so he got Draco to keep informing him. He joined up with Voldemort--we don't know if it was out of fear, or desire for power, or the belief that he was acting for the best," said Harry.  
  
"And he went to school with you?" Ron suddenly pictured all the havoc an apprentice Death Eater could cause at Hogwarts. _He could have killed, or hurt, or betrayed_...  
  
"He was too afraid to strike against me directly," said Harry, "after all, not even Voldemort would have attacked me right under Dumbledore's nose. But he was all for helping his dad and his master do the dirty work."  
  
"Draco was able to setup a gateway for Voldemort and the Death Eaters into Hogwarts," Hermione said. "Hogwarts was safe only as long as no one was working on the inside, helping to get outsiders in. With Draco as a mole..."  
  
"All hell broke loose," said Harry. "It was total chaos. The students outnumbered the Death Eaters, of course, but what chance to even a dozen first-years have against Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
Silence filled the room as Harry's and Hermione's thoughts drifted to their memories of those days. Ron tried to imagine what it would have been like...McGonagall dueling Lucius Malfoy, or Voldemort torturing his friends...his _sister_...  
  
"They were damn lucky that I wasn't there that day," Ron said finally. His two friends looked up towards him, and Hermione smiled.  
  
"There were more heroes that day," she said, "than we could tell you about. The Order, of course...they were running around all over the place, trying to keep the students safe. The teachers, too...Hagrid pounded Crabbe and Goyle--the adults, not Draco's goons--and McGonagall wrapped Nott up like a Christmas present with some Binding Charm.  
  
"The real heroes, though," she continued, "were the students. Dean led a group of house-elves against a few Death Eaters holed up in one classroom. He didn't survive...but the house elves managed to imprison the Death Eaters--Macnair, I think, and Avery."  
  
"And the Creevy brothers," said Harry, "remember them? They were leading a group of first years to the Gryffindor common room--one of the only safe spots left in the school. Lestrange and another one ambushed them...the Creevys' sacrifice gave the younger ones a chance to escape."  
  
"So kids died? I mean, they...wait a minute! What about my sister? Was she OK?"  
  
Harry continued, "Your sister was unbelievable. They gave her Order of Merlin, First Class, when the dust settled. She and Neville both...They disabled three Death Eaters, including Malfoy, Sr., rescued the Slythrin first-years from their own common room, which was Voldemort's HQ, and killed Lestrange."  
  
"My sister killed..."  
  
"No," said Harry, "actually, Neville did that. I don't think he even was trying. He thought he would just stun her, but he was so close..." His voice drifted off. Ron knew that Lestrange had tortured Neville's parents into insanity. He wasn't sure if he could picture a vengeful Neville Longbottom, but then again, he wasn't sure if he could picture his sister as Ginny Longbottom, and he had seen the picture to prove that.  
  
Finally, Hermione spoke, breaking the silence. "The real hero of the day, though, was Harry, of course," she said brightly, giving her husband a kiss as she said it. Harry shook his head.  
  
"Because I was Voldemort's target, Dumbledore locked me away in his office for most of the battle. I was stuck there while my friends were fighting and dying. The portraits in his office managed to give me updates on what was going on around the castle, but Dumbledore made me promise to stay put until he came to get me."  
  
"Get you for what?"  
  
"Harry, he doesn't know about the prophecy. Remember? You never told us," said Hermione. Ron could tell this was still a point of disagreement between the two.  
  
"Ah, yeah, that." Harry bit his lower lip. "See, Ron, that prophecy at the Department of Mysteries--you know, from the end of fifth year--was about me."  
  
"Yeah, I know that much. Did you find out what it said?"  
  
"Actually, Dumbledore told me that night. I just didn't particularly feel like sharing it. It was made--by Professor Trelawney, of all people-- just before I was born. It said that the person with the powers to defeat Voldemort would be born at the end of July, and that he'd have powers that the Dark Lord didn't."  
  
"AND?" said Hermione, looking very upset.  
  
"And it had something in there about one of us having to kill the other," added Harry nonchalantly.  
  
Ron couldn't believe what he heard. "So you knew you'd have to kill or be killed..."  
  
"...and didn't tell you," Harry finished. "Yes. I couldn't really see what the point would be of telling you two."  
  
"Except that we were your two best friends," said Hermione crossly. Ron actually sided with her on this one; he couldn't believe Harry didn't share this with them.  
  
"Yeah, but I just thought it would worry you. And it did, didn't it? When I told you?" Hermione nodded. Before Harry could continue, Ron interrupted.  
  
"What powers did you have that he didn't? I mean, what on earth could you do that he couldn't?"  
  
"I asked Dumbledore the same question one day. He told me that love-- the love that had protected me as an infant, the love that brought me to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius, and the love I had for my friends--was a power that Voldemort could not and would never understand."  
  
"A fat lot of good a big hug would do in a duel..."  
  
"That's what I thought too, but...well, let me continue the story" Ron gave him a nod of acceptance, and Harry continued. "So, since Dumbledore knew I'd be a duel with Voldemort at some point, he wanted to make my duel as safe for me as possible."  
  
"You know, adjusted for it being a duel in which it was prophesied that only one person would survive," interrupted Hermione.  
  
"And I guess he thought I would be better off facing Voldemort than Voldemort AND a bunch of Death Eaters," finished Harry, ignoring Hermione's comments.  
  
"Well, did he come for you?"  
  
"No," said Harry. A glint of fury appeared in his eyes as he continued. "One of the portraits gave me a report that I had to respond to. It told me that Voldemort had killed Hermione..."  
  
Ron immediately looked towards Hermione. "Don't worry," she said, "you can see that it wasn't true."  
  
"Then what was the point?" asked Ron.  
  
"You'll see," said Harry, "just let me get to it. Thinking she really was dead, I went right away to find Voldemort. I think he was waiting for me, though, because as soon as I showed up, Voldemort sprang out and hurled a Killing curse my way." He paused dramatically.  
  
"Well, what the hell happened?" exploded Ron. "You can't just leave me hanging like that!"  
  
"Well, it all happened kind of quickly," said Harry. "He hit me, I know that, because my scar hurt so badly I just about passed out. But I didn't die, obviously."  
  
"Why the ruddy hell not?"  
  
"Well," said Harry, "Dumbledore had to explain it to me later. It dealt with the nature of magic. Voldemort's body came from three components: 'bone of the father,' 'flesh of the servant,' and 'blood of the enemy.' At least, that's what went into the spell that raised him. Wormtail gave his hand as 'flesh of the servant,' but he owed his life to me. Remember? We spared him in the Shrieking Shack."  
  
Ron took a deep breath and thought back to the night when the three of them had first met Sirius. "Yeah, that's right," he said. He was tense just from hearing this story. "So what?"  
  
"So Voldemort had an inherent weakness against me. His body was created with the flesh of a person who owed his life to me, so I guess he couldn't kill me, not outright."  
  
"Not that I was untouched," he added quickly, "I was just about dead, or felt like it, but I was better off than most who face the _Avada_ _Kedavra_. The spell dazed me a bit, but I was less confused than Voldemort was. He couldn't figure out how anyone could survive an _Avada Kedavra_ at all, much less for the second time. So I took advantage of the chance and tried to kill him myself."  
  
Ron's eyes widened. "Did you get him?"  
  
"Ah, see, that's the thing. I shouldn't have," said Harry, matter-of- factly. "I'm not sure if I ever told you this, but my wand and Voldemort's were brothers--shared the same core. Feathers from Fawkes, actually. But that meant that our wands wouldn't ever really work against each other."  
  
"That sucks," said Ron. "Did you have any advantage?"  
  
"Again, I shouldn't have had anything. But Dumbledore planned ahead and gave me an advantage."  
  
"Which was...?"  
  
"The prophecy that I mentioned earlier..."  
  
"Oh, yeah! The love one, or whatever?"  
  
"Right. Dumbledore always told me that my heart--love--would be my advantage. It was. See, he told his pictures to report that she'd been wounded. That way, my anger, my rage, would be driven by love. If he'd waited for Voldemort to find me, I would have acted out of self-defense-- but Voldemort could understand that. If I went out and hunted for him just because I thought I had to, I would have been attacking--again, something Voldemort could understand and defeat. But by luring me with Hermione, Dumbledore made the duel one of the protector--me--versus the aggressor-- him. It was my relationship with Hermione...our friendship...our love...that gave me an edge. The love for the one I was protecting, coupled with the mercy I had shown Wormtail destroyed Voldemort. I didn't even have to actually use a spell--well, not a killing curse--to kill him. It was just the nature of magic."  
  
Ron's gaze fell to the floor as he sat in stunned silence, pondering his friends' story. He slowly looked up and noticed that Hermione's hand gripped Harry's tightly. Harry looked even older now than he did when Ron first entered the room. He gave a heavy sigh and met Ron's gaze.  
  
"I guess that's the end of the real action. I hope that answers some of your questions."  
  
"Some," said Ron, "but that's only the eighteen months after I disappeared. What about after..."  
  
Hermione cut him off. "Ron, I know this must drive you nuts, but Harry needs to take a break." Her eyes met his, and Ron understood she wanted to say more. "We can finish up tomorrow, if you can wait that long."  
  
"I guess so. Are you OK, Harry?" Ron began to worry that what he had taken for tiredness might be something more serious.  
  
"I'm fine, Ron. Just need a good night's sleep, that's all." He lurched out of his chair and wobbled a bit; Hermione had to steady him before he headed out of the room. She turned her attention to Ron.  
  
"I can help you back to your room now, if you'd like. Or are you hungry?" She suddenly seemed very motherly to Ron. He shook his head.  
  
"I'm fine, thanks. I've got a lot to think about." Hermione just nodded understandingly. 


	5. The Aeternus Gate

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is a billionaire author who owns Harry Potter and anything associated with the books. I, on the other hand, am a fanfic author with too much spare time. Don't confuse the two of us.  
  
Chapter 5  
-OR-  
"The Aeternus Gate"  
  
Even though Ron had a lot to think about, he fell asleep quickly. When he awoke, it took Ron a few moments to recognize the glimmering rectangle on the wall as sunlight. Shaking off sleep, Ron sat up and looked around. He was still in his room at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. _It isn't a dream, then_, he thought. Cautiously, he got out of bed and noticed standing no longer made him dizzy. Smelling breakfast, he headed for the kitchens.  
  
Dobby was the only one in the kitchen. He was seated at the table, his little legs dangling from the chair and swinging slightly from side to side. As he ate his cereal, his saucer-sized eyes were darting back and forth across the back of the cereal box. The scene reminded Ron strongly of childhood mornings spent at the Burrow.  
  
"Dobby?" The house elf jumped up and snapped his head around to look at Ron.  
  
"Oh, you is awake, sir! Dobby will help you with breakfast, if you like, sir, or Dobby can get Harry Potter or Hemione! Or..."  
  
"Dobby, relax," said Ron. Dobby was already bouncing around the kitchen, getting out pots and pans and preparing to cook. Ron, louder this time, said again, "Dobby, I don't need anything. I'm fine with just a bowl of cereal or something..."  
  
"No, no, Hermione says you is needing a big breakfast, and Dobby is wanting to cook for you." As he said this, Hermione walked into the room.  
  
"Hey! You're finally up, sleepyhead! It's almost noon."  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I was really tired."  
  
"Well, ten years' worth of jet lag would tire anyone. Maybe some breakfast will perk you up." Hermione waved her wand, setting pots and pans in motion as they began to cook.  
  
"No, really, I just want some cereal..." Ron's pleas were ignored as Hermione gently pushed him into a chair and put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. Ron sullenly tasted the eggs, which were scrambled to perfection.  
  
"What kind of juice would you like?" Hermione asked absentmindedly, as she buttered some toast.  
  
"Uh, orange is fine, thanks," said Ron, through a mouthful of food. Hermione set an empty glass in front of him which promptly started to fill itself with orange juice. Hermione took a seat next to him. "You haven't eaten yet?" asked Ron.  
  
"Of course not. I wouldn't let my houseguest eat alone, would I?" She cheerfully attacked her own plate.  
  
"Where'd Dobby go?" asked Ron. After his quick cooking, the house- elf had disappeared.  
  
"He still won't eat with us--humans, I mean," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I teach and I teach, but he just won't. He's probably off cleaning or something." She looked Ron in the eye and smiled. "I hope we didn't stop too abruptly for you last night, Ron. It's just that Harry gets so...tired." A brief look of what might have been worry crossed her face. "He's feeling much better today--he'll want to talk to you after you're done eating."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Oh, he's in the basement, working on...well, working." Hermione gave another quick smile to try to cover her hesitation. Seeing Ron's concern, she quickly added, "Oh, no, it's nothing bad or dangerous. I'm just sure he'd want to be the one to explain, that's all."  
  
An uneasy silence filled the room.  
  
"What about you, Hermione?" said Ron. "Are you okay?"  
  
Hermione first looked a bit surprised at his question. "Of course. Why do you ask?"  
  
"You just didn't talk much last night. I thought that maybe you weren't well or something."  
  
"No, Harry just likes to talk. You know me--never much of a talker."  
  
Ron paused. He _did_ know Hermione--or at least, he knew the Hermione of ten years ago--and she was always willing to speak up and explain something. In fact, when they first met, it was Hermione's unceasing chatter that drove Ron nuts. Before he could mention any of this, she spoke.  
  
"We've gotten a lot of owls--the old gang heard about you. Your mum and dad will be here this afternoon, so we took the liberty of inviting everyone else. Everyone's really excited, you know?"  
  
"Everyone...?"  
  
"Yeah! Your parents, of course, and your brothers and sister. I think even Professor McGonagall--she's the headmistress, now, you know that?--sent an owl. It'll be fun."  
  
"I hope I'm up to it," said Ron. One night with just two of his friends had been an emotionally draining experience. How much had everyone else changed?  
  
"You'll be fine," said Hermione, in the same motherly tone she had used with Harry at the end of the previous night's story. "You can rest up all you like today, we're not going anywhere. If you like, you should go downstairs. Harry would be happy to finish his brief history of the past years."  
  
"What about you?" asked Ron. He was suddenly a bit nervous about meeting with Harry alone. _Why do I feel this way? _thought Ron.  
  
"I have to get the house ready for a party!" she said, with a wink. "I can't let Dobby do all the work, can I?"

* * *

When Ron got downstairs, Harry was sitting at a desk with a few large books and scrolls around him. He looked up immediately, though, as Ron descended the staircase.  
  
"Hey!" he said. He sounded more alive with that one word than he had all last night. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," said Ron. "I feel good, thanks."  
  
"Have you eaten?" Harry rose from behind the desk and drew a chair in the air with his wand. It materialized, and he pulled it out for his friend.  
  
"Thanks." Ron nervously eyed the machine in the center of the room. Now that he wasn't semi-conscious, he noticed that it wasn't exactly like the one at Hogwarts. The arch was still there, repaired, and looking much sturdier than it had ten years ago. Ron thought he saw the time turner, mounted under the control panel--with one button--but many of the other artifacts were gone. He turned back to Harry. "Yeah, I've eaten, thanks. Hermione ate with me."  
  
Harry smiled. "She's really excited to have you back, Ron. We both are. It's pretty exciting stuff, you know?"  
  
"I guess so," said Ron. "Harry, what is that thing?" He gestured towards the collection of devices in the middle of the room.  
  
"That, Ron, is an Aeternus Gate. Well, a modified one, anyway."  
  
"What're those? Aeternus Gates?"  
  
"Well, that's kind of hard to explain. You're lucky, though, because I'm one of only about three living people who could really explain them."  
  
"Who're the other two?"  
  
"Well, Hermione could, probably, but not as well as I can." Seeing the incredulous look on Ron's face, Harry quickly added, "Only because I study them. Remember when I told you I research for a living? I research these."  
  
"Who's the third person?"  
  
"Luna Lovegood," said Harry, but his voice sounded funny as he said it. Before Ron could ask, Harry continued with his explanation. "Aeternus Gates are relics of a very powerful magic-using people of thousands of years ago. They separated themselves from Muggles and most wizards and witches. Muggles knew about them, though, and so do you, probably, through mythology. Ancient peoples, like the Egyptians and Greeks, thought they were gods."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"They had amazing powers, of course, but nothing that a Hogwarts graduate couldn't do. What made them special were these gates," he said, pointing to the ancient archway. "They knew of a...place, I guess you could call it. The Aeternus."  
  
"How is something a sort of place?"  
  
"Well," started Harry, "it's like another dimension or something." He chuckled a little bit. "See, even I, the world's greatest expert, can't really explain it. Anyway, these Ancients were able to use these Gates to access the Aeternus and go anywhere."  
  
"Anywhere?"  
  
"Anywhere. Think of the Aeternus as a really, really big room--big enough to be adjacent to everywhere in the world at the same time. These gates were like doors into and out of that room."  
  
"So anywhere there was a Gate..."  
  
"The Ancients could go. Exactly." Ron nodded in comprehension. Harry continued, "The Ancients had an extensive network of these gates throughout the world. Only a few remain, though."  
  
"So why do you care? And what happened to the Ancients?"  
  
Again, Harry laughed. "The Ancients," he said, "were not unlike some wizards today. They refused to mingle with the 'commoners,' which included us normal wizarding folk. They died out because of their mistrust of mixed bloodlines." He paused to let the irony of the situation sink in. "I care about the Aeternus--and, hence, the Gates-- because I think it is adjacent to all times, too."  
  
Ron thought about this for a moment. "It could get me home!"  
  
Harry nodded a little bit, but grimaced. "Yeah, maybe. But that's not what interests me." Ron was stunned.  
  
"Wh-what does interest you, then?"  
  
"Ron...you remember what I thought the arch was for when we found it at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Of course. You thought it..." Ron, paused, realizing exactly what was so interesting about the Aeternus to Harry. Seeing the dawning of comprehension on Ron's face, Harry just nodded.  
  
"Ron, think about it. Two of my best friends died--or I thought they died--in some way connected with Aeternus Gates. If my theory was correct, and they did connect space and time, then there might be some way for those two people to return to me. Your being here is my greatest proof so far that I'm on the right track."  
  
When Ron didn't say anything, Harry continued. "The portals are dormant now--it's been too long since they were last used. That, and no one knows where they all are, so using them as transportation is almost impossible. This one," he said, pointing again to the middle of the room, "is the only one in Britain. Some archeologists have found another in Athens recently. The one at Hogwarts was from what is now Iraq, but it was destroyed the day you got knocked into the future."  
  
"How do they work?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Sorry, Ron, but it would take days to explain my theories on how they manipulate the Aeternus. And if you meant, 'how can I use this portal to get back to Hogwarts of ten years ago?', then I can't give you that answer."  
  
"You don't want me to go back!" Ron for the first time felt a bit angry at his friend. _How can he make me a...a...a refugee of some sort?  
_  
"Ron," started Harry, in a perfectly calm, controlled tone of voice, "if you went back, you'd change history. You know I would love to have those years back, to have you with me...who knows how we'd have turned out? But that's impossible. As soon as you went back, I--and Hermione, and your Minister of Magic father, and everyone else--would disappear. We'd cease to be."  
  
"So it's a case of my being stranded here or your own comfort?"  
  
"No, Ron, it's a case of your having to adapt to what are, admittedly, very challenging new surroundings, or the total non-existence of everyone alive today." Ron glared across the table at Harry, who seemed utterly unfazed by his friend's anger. Harry held Ron's gaze for a long minute before Ron spoke.  
  
"So what do you have this arch for? If you aren't going to change anything with it?"  
  
"I think when Sirius fell through the arch, he fell into the Aeternus. I figure if I can figure out how to use one of these gates to access it, I could give him a chance to get out."  
  
"Couldn't he just walk out?"  
  
"No," said Harry, "not unless a Gate is active. In keeping with the room metaphor, you could say that someone needs to open the door from the outside, first."  
  
"And you can't open it?"  
  
"Well, I can...I just need to open a door close enough to Sirius that he could get out," said Harry. He pointed to his books. "This is the world's largest library on Aeternus Gates. Four books--most of which are yet to be translated--and a few scrolls. That's all I've got to go on."  
  
Ron got up and walked over to inspect the archway. It was different from the one at Hogwarts, now that he could look at it up close. He turned to Harry.  
  
"Why didn't you try to get me out?"  
  
Harry must have expected the question; he answered immediately. "I didn't think you went through the Gate. So for years, I just thought you were dead, but the fact that you were gone totally and completely...that always bugged me. So I later figured that you'd been thrown through a tear in the Aeternus."  
  
"And what's the difference between that and going through a Gate?"  
  
"A person going through a Gate could come back through a Gate. A person just tossed in the Aeternus couldn't just come back...he'd be adrift, unable to control himself. After thinking and reading about it for a long time, I concluded that I had no control over when you got to wherever or whenever you were going."  
  
Ron returned to examining the Gate. Walking around it, he saw both sides of the archway, noting nothing special about it, noticing no sign that it was in fact a portal to another dimension. Shaking his head, he turned to Harry.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
"Well, with the great exception of you coming back, yesterday wasn't exactly anything noteworthy, as far as my research went. I wasn't experimenting or anything. But I think I may be ready to try to bring back Sirius soon. Your arrival...gives me a lot of confidence."  
  
"Glad to help," muttered Ron. He heard a noise at the top of the stairs.  
  
"Harry? Ron?" It was Hermione. "Why don't you two come up here? Ron, your sister's here!" 


	6. IckleRonnie's Return

Disclaimer: You might think that I own Harry Potter. If you thought that, then you would be a fool. I don't. (Don't worry too much, though—I won't think any less of you for it.)  
  
Chapter 6  
-OR-  
"'Ickle-Ronnie's' Return"  
  
Ron bolted up the stairs, any trace of his earlier dizziness gone. He flew through the door and almost collided with Dobby, who was bustling around the kitchen, working on dinner.  
  
"Dobby is sorry, sir, but he did not see the Wheezy coming!" The house-elf scurried out of Ron's way.  
  
"You're fine, Dobby, it's fine," he said. "Where's my sister?"  
  
"Is that my brother?" called a voice from the next room.  
  
"Ginny!" yelled Ron, bowling over Dobby as he raced for the door.  
  
He flew around the corner and into the room and saw Ginny. She was taller now, but still had a slight figure. Her trademark Weasley-red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore sleek, sporty-looking robes and a big smile.  
  
"Ron!" She ran up to him and gave him a hug. They looked at each other for a moment, both trying to get used to Ron being the younger of the two of them. She grinned even more widely. "I can't believe it! It's really you!"  
  
"And look at you! All grown up, and...and..." He took another look at his sister. She was indeed grown up, and Ron had to get used to that fact. She just laughed.  
  
"Oh, Ron...I'm so happy to see you." A single tear trickled down her face, but she wiped it away in a hurry. "Neville will be here as soon as he can. He had a meeting that he just couldn't get out of, you know how those Ministry people are...Oh!" she said. "Neville--Longbottom, you know-- we..."  
  
"I know," said Ron. "Harry and Hemione told me last night."  
  
"To prepare you for the shock, huh? Well, he was so happy to hear...we thought it was some sort of joke, or mistake, or something! But here you are!"  
  
Harry walked into the room and gave Ginny a hug, too. "Welcome, Mrs. Longbottom," he said. He moved to sit by Hermione.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," said Ginny, in a mock-serious voice. Then she laughed. "Ron, how are you? How are you feeling?"  
  
"Uh, well, pretty good, thanks. Just a little bewildered, I guess..."  
  
"I can't even imagine," she said, nodding in agreement. "Well, c'mon? Won't you sit by your little sister? Except that she's older than you are now...." she teased. Ron took a seat next to his sister, who promptly began peppering Ron with questions.  
  
"You know," he interrupted, "there's really not a lot to tell from my end. I just woke up here, that's all. It's not like I've been on a trip or something." Ginny would have none of it.  
  
"C'mon, you're no fun!" she said, sounding, for a moment, like she was again a teenaged girl. "What do you think of the future? Is it all you thought it'd be?"  
  
"Well, excepting for me not being a part of it...." Ron thought about the question for a moment. _What do I think of the future? Am I happy with how it turned out?_ He shook off his thoughts. "Well, Dad's Minister of Magic and all..."  
  
"Yeah! Isn't that neat? We were so proud when Dumbledore appointed him Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, and then when Dumbledore left...there was Dad! It was great! How'd you know about that?"  
  
"Uh...I read the _Daily Prophet_ yesterday. He was mentioned in an editorial." _There's another thing,_ thought Ron, _whatever happened to Dumbledore? Why didn't Harry finish his story from last night?  
_  
"Oooooohhhhhh," cooed Ginny, "did you? Did you read all of it?" Ginny wagged her eyebrows. "Did you get to the sports page?"  
  
"Uh, no, not really. I just sort of skimmed the front section. Why?"  
  
Ginny feigned disappointment. "You mean you didn't check the Quidditch box scores?"  
  
"No, wh..." Ron stopped, noticing for the first time the Chudley Cannons emblem sewn onto the breast of Ginny's uniform. "Are you? I mean? You?" He pointed clumsily at her robes.  
  
"I was wondering when you'd notice!" Ginny laughed. "I'm a Chaser! It was really unexpected, you know? But they wanted me when I was done with Hogwarts," she said, shrugging. "What could I say? I..." She cleared her throat. "I always knew were your favorites, Ron. I knew you'd approve." Her smile was a bit more watery this time.  
  
"My sister! A pro Quidditch player!" Ron jumped up and shouted it again. "I can't believe it! And we never used to let you play!"  
  
"You wouldn't believe the human-interest story that made...Rita Skeeter had a holiday..." She gave Ron a big wink. "I can get you tickets, anytime you want. We have a home game this Sunday, you know."  
  
"I'd love it," said Ron. "Now, tell me all about it--the other players, your record, everything!"  
  
Before she could start, however, there was a knock at the door. Hermione swiftly got up to answer it, but from his seat, Ron followed her as she left to get the newest guests. She returned with...  
  
"Mom! Dad!" Ron jumped up to greet his parents. His mother gave him a very tight, very teary hug while his father just watched with a hint of a smile. Mr. Weasley first offered his hand to Ron, then pulled him in for a hug.  
  
"Ronald Weasley! Look at you!" said his mother. "Back here! And alive! Do you know how worried we've been?" Before Ron could answer, she shrugged it off and hugged him again. "And you're just like you were ten years ago! When you went off and fooled around with that machine." She was still crying. Seeing that his father was desperately trying to get a word in, Ron extricated himself from his mother's death-grip hug and stood by his father.  
  
"Ron...it's been a long time. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you...and I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner..."  
  
"Dad, it's all right. I know you're the Minister of Magic."  
  
"He is indeed, Ron. YOUR FATHER! Minister of Magic! I always told him that if he just kept working hard..." Mrs. Weasley continued to talk, but Hermione offered her a cup of tea so that Ron could have a word with his father.  
  
"The American Minister sends his regards, too, Ron. I had to leave a conference, you know." Mr. Weasley shrugged. "But I was glad to do it to see my boy! I knew it would take more than a little bang to get rid of a Weasley!" Ron noticed his father looked more confident and lively than when he had last seen him.  
  
"I can't tell you how proud I am of _you_, Dad. Minister of Magic!" Mr. Weasley's ears turned red. "And Ginny, here, Chaser for the Cannons! Is the rest of the family this successful?"  
  
"Well, those two," said Mrs. Weasley, not needing to explain to whom she was referring, "are still running that shop."  
  
"But are doing very well there, Molly, you have to admit." Mr. Weasley turned to Ron. "They've expanded, you know--they have a branch in Hogsmeade now, and are looking into overseas investment. Quite the big shots..."  
  
"Most successful Weasleys not to graduate," added Mrs. Weasley. "And Bill--he couldn't come, you know, he's on vacation with the family--is still working for Gringott's here in London. We've got three little grandchildren, now, we do!" Mrs. Weasley started to fish in her purse for pictures while Mr. Weasley helped himself to a cup of tea. "Here," she said at last. Ron could tell with one look that Bill had ended up marrying Fleur, the half-veela. All three of the children--two girls and a boy--had shimmering, strawberry blond hair. The boy giggled and waved a bit from his picture; the two girls were enjoying a nap. Ron handed the pictures back to his mother.  
  
"What about Charlie?"  
  
"Charlie's overseas still, studying dragons. He's in China, now, I think," said Mr. Weasley. "He moves around quite a bit. He got married, too, to Tonks, that Auror."  
  
"Very nice girl," said Mrs. Weasley, with an approving nod. "She takes good care of my boy. Bit clumsy, though."  
  
"What about Percy?" His question instantly silenced the room.  
  
"Your brother," started Mrs. Weasley, "went and got himself killed." Ron couldn't tell if his mother was more angry or upset.  
  
"What your mother means," said Mr. Weasley, "is that Percy died when V-Voldemort attacked the Ministry of Magic. See, not too long after you, ah, well, died isn't the word..."  
  
"Mr. Weasley, Ron knows about everything up to the fall of Voldemort. We told him last night," said Harry. Mr. Weasley was visibly relieved.  
  
"Well, he--Percy, I mean, of course--he was in Fudge's office. He tried to stop what was going on, and, well, that was that." Mr. Weasley tried to smile, and Mrs. Weasley started to cry.  
  
"He still wasn't talking to us when he died," she wailed. "He still refused to acknowledge his own family!" She started to sob uncontrollably, and Ginny tried to help take her out of the room. Mrs. Weasley shook her daughter off and stopped crying. If the silence after Ron's question was awkward, then the new silence filling the room was absolutely stifling. Hermione finally cleared her throat and spoke.  
  
"Ron, we were going to tell you last night. We just didn't think that..."  
  
"No, you're fine. It's just a bit of a shock, I guess. He was always a git, but I never thought that...I mean, I would never have..." He trailed off as he tried to think of something else to talk about. Finally he decided to return to politics, saying, "Well, Dad, I saw yesterday that the _Daily Prophet_ had all sorts of good things to say about you. Quite a bit different from what I remember."  
  
Mr. Weasley nodded. "Yes, they really have had a change of heart, haven't they? I still get the benefits of being on Dumbledore's side when we fought You-Know-Who. Now they're all for just about anything I say."  
  
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Weasley. "They support you because you're right." She nodded decisively. "Ron, your father has done more to support Muggle-wizard relations than any other Minister I've ever seen. And he does quite a bit for our relations with all magical creatures."  
  
"Speaking of which," said Ginny, "where's Dobby?"  
  
Hermione gave an impatient snort. "He's cooking. I tried to get him to join us, but he said that he preferred working."  
  
"Er, yes, house-elves are like that," said Mr. Weasley. Ron got the impression that this was one subject that everyone still shied from in Hermione's presence. At that moment, though, there was a loud crack at the fireplace. A wizard in plain, well-worn gray robes with graying hair to match stepped out. He looked towards Ron.  
  
"Ron Weasley! What a pleasant surprise!" called Remus Lupin. He turned to Hermione. "Minerva and Rubeus will be here shortly." He walked up to Ron and shook his hand. "Welcome back, I guess."  
  
"Thanks, Professor," said Ron. He gave the man an appraising look. His former professor had aged gracefully--certainly more so than Harry had. His clothes, while still worn out, were no longer patched, and Lupin wore them well. Thinking of nothing else to say, Ron said, "You're looking well."  
  
"So do you, for a guy who's been thrown through time and had a nasty landing at the end of his flight," said Lupin with a smile. "You're feeling okay?"  
  
"Yeah," said Ron. "A little dazed, I guess. I mean, everyone here has done so much...I suppose you've found a cure for werewolf bites and reinvented the Philosopher's Stone or something."  
  
"No, Ron, I'm just a simple schoolteacher. That's all."  
  
"You teach? At Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yup. I guess when everyone saw what I did for the Order, my being a werewolf got to be less important. So I'm back--Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course."  
  
"And Head of Gryffindor House," added Hermione.  
  
"Yeah, that too," said Lupin with a smile. "So I've been keeping busy."  
  
"Remus," said Harry, "would you care for a drink? If you'd follow me to the kitchen..." Harry rose and gestured towards the door. Ron thought, for a moment, that Harry was looking at Lupin strangely, but then the moment passed and the two men headed for the door.  
  
"I'll be back in a moment, Ron," called Lupin as he walked out. A moment after he and Harry left, there was a murmur of voices from the kitchen. The door burst open and two tall, red-headed men burst through.  
  
"Ickle-Ronnie?" called George.  
  
"We've missed you so!" yelled Fred. The two of them sandwiched Ron in a hug and patted their younger brother on the head. "Look at how _little_ he is, George."  
  
"Just the cutest little thing..." muttered George. They looked at Ron, who goggled back.  
  
"Uh, thanks, you two," he said, feeling his ears burning. The twins grinned at each other.  
  
"No, really, Ron, it's good to see you, it really is," said George. "It really was quite a shock--"  
  
"--when we got that owl from Harry here. We thought he was joking...but not even we could pull off a joke like that."  
  
Ron managed to say his thanks, but Mrs. Weasley had already started to talk to the twins; apparently, she didn't think much of their welcome for Ron. The twins shrugged off her rebukes--_some things never change_, thought Ron. Harry and Lupin walked back in, nursing drinks, and Ginny was animatedly discussing the latest Quidditch match with her father. Everyone seemed so happy...  
  
"Ron, are you okay?" asked Hermione. "You seemed a bit out of it."  
  
"Hermione, I'm fine. It's just strange seeing everyone like this..." Hermione nodded, then started to say something, but then there were two more bangs at the fireplace.  
  
"Ron! Good ter see yeh!" rumbled Hagrid. The only visible sign of his aging was that his beard was spotted with grey. Beyond that, however, he was as tall, wide, and jovial as ever. "Never would've though' it, seein' yeh again!" He seemed to get a bit misty and stepped out of the way to reveal Professor McGonagall, looking about as pleased as Ron had ever seen her.  
  
"Mr. Weasley! Alive! I simply cannot believe it!" McGonagall wiped away a tear. "When Hermione sent the owl...It's simply amazing."  
  
Ron again nodded. He was starting to feel embarrassed. _I haven't done anything great_, he thought, I_ didn't do anything at all. I just sort of got here. What am I _supposed _to say?  
_  
"Thanks, Professor McGonagall," he finally said. "I'm glad you could come."  
  
"Of course, Mr. Weasley. I would not have missed it, although I daresay we shall see each other enough soon." Ron froze.  
  
"Er, how's that, Professor?"  
  
"Well, you will continue your studies at Hogwarts, won't you?" she said in a tone of voice not unlike the one she used in the classroom. "We'd be happy to put you in the sixth year, so you'd only have to take two years of classes..."  
  
She continued, but Ron was no longer listening. _Back to Hogwarts?_ he thought. The idea of going back to school while Harry and Hermione went about their lives--their adult lives--was stomach-churning. _Ginny will be out playing Quidditch and coming home to Neville, and I'll be worried about N.E.W.T.s?_ He realized he hadn't given any thought yet to what he was going to do, now that he was in the "future." Going to school made sense, but it sounded awful...  
  
"...Well, I'm sure you'll talk it over with your parents. I'll let you get back to visiting with your family and friends, Mr. Weasley. Welcome back," McGonagall finished. She drifted off with Hermione, discussing something related to Hogwarts. Ron sank into his chair and half listened to his twin brothers talk about the newest Wizarding Wheezes in their shop.  
  
Ten minutes later, (and half an hour late,) Neville arrived, happily greeting Ron and then taking his seat next to Ginny. Everyone mingled happily, chatting and laughing--except for Ron. What did he have to talk about? He was able to pick up snippets of conversation from everyone else, though.  
  
"But Mum, with the sales of Pigtail-growing Pops, we'll have more than enough to run a Hogsmeade store--reckon it'll run Zonko's out in a year..."  
  
"I'm sorry I'm late, Ginny, dear, but we were interrupted by some official worried about a breakdown of the Floo Network..."  
  
"You know, Harry, I would love for you to come in and guest lecture someday to some of my classes..."  
  
"Yeh should see this one, Hermione, it's bigger than Fluffy ev'r was, I tell yeh, and sweeter, too..."  
  
"Minister, I can't tell you how highly we at Hogwarts think of your decision..."  
  
"Ron, are you just going to sit there and mope?" Ron jerked his head around and saw his sister looking at him. "C'mon," she said, "talk to me!" Ginny made mock puppy eyes at Ron for a moment, then giggled again.  
  
"It's just so...weird," he said. "You all have lives, you're all so happy to see me, but to me..." He frowned. "I mean, McGonagall was talking about me going back to school. And I guess that makes sense. I mean, I was just in school the day before last, squirming under Snape's glare in Potions...but it just seems to dumb for me to go back and have to do all of that while Harry's out..." He thought about how Harry probably spent his days, then started over. "...And have to do all of that while Hermione's teaching--she'd be teaching ME! And you, off flying your broomstick for the Cannons...I'd read about you in the paper, my little sister..."  
  
"Ron," she said, "I won't tell you I know how you feel--I don't. I can't imagine it. But I can tell you this," said Ginny, all traces of girlish giggling gone, "I know you'll figure out some way to handle it. I mean, after killer chess pieces, a talking spider, a pet rat that turned out to be a killer, capture by merfolk, and the attacks of tentacled brains, a few years shouldn't be anything you can't handle." Ron just nodded. She got up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "And I promise," she added, the grin returning, "that I won't make any jokes about you being the youngest now." She marched off to join Neville, leaving Ron feeling slightly better than before. 


	7. Mrs Hermione Potter

Disclaimer: You know, if you think that the person who wrote the Harry Potter novels is the same guy who wrote this fanfic...then you have a very high view of this fanfic indeed. You also have an incorrect view of this fanfic. I wrote it. JRK wrote the books, and owns the stuff.  
  
Chapter 7  
-OR-  
"Mrs. Hermione Potter"  
  
The party continued for hours, but Ron only halfheartedly joined in. He found that he had very little to say to his friends and family, and their conversations about current events, work, politics, and Quidditch meant little to Ron. He forced himself to wear a smile for the next few hours, but he realized it was more for his family's sake than his own. By the time Ginny and Neville, the last guests, said their goodbyes, Ron was absolutely exhausted.  
  
"You poor thing," said Hermione, in her strangely maternal tone, "you look beat. You couldn't even stand yesterday. You should take a shower and get to bed!" Ron offered no argument. As he moved towards the stairs, though, Harry grabbed him by the arm.  
  
"Ron, I know this is tough for you. If you need to talk to me..." he said, with an oddly intense look in his eyes.  
  
"Of course, Harry. Sure thing."  
  
"No, Ron, what I mean is..." Harry paused and looked to see that Hermione had left the room. "I just want you to know that I'm still the same old Harry. Your best friend, you know?" He held eye contact with Ron, unblinking, until Ron finally shook himself free from Harry's grasp.  
  
"Yeah. Thanks." He trudged back up to his room.  
  
Back in his room, Ron barely slept. The event of the past two days weighed heavily on his mind--time travel, Hogwarts under attack, ancient arches, his friends and family all grown up--Ron felt like he was staring at the ceiling for hours. When he finally managed to fall asleep, it was a fitful, light doze, marred with nightmares.  
  
He was back at Hogwarts, but the halls were in disarray: pictures destroyed, tapestries burning, and statues broken. Smoke made it hard for him to see further than a few feet, but he could see flashes of light coming from classrooms and down the hall. He heard an angry roar and the rumble of destruction and instinctively started to move down the corridor towards it. When he got to the end of the corridor, he was back in the Room of Requirement with the machine looming over him. In the shadows, he saw something move slightly; Ron drew his wand and started to move towards it. Before he could get there, another door opened and Harry walked in. It was the younger Harry, the Harry that Ron knew--lanky, with disheveled hair and serious look on his face. Voldemort, the figure in the shadows leapt out and hit Harry with a jet of light that knocked him over. Hermione (_where did_ she _come from_?) helped Harry to his feet, and when he stood, Ron could see he was now the older, tired Harry of the future. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw another shape moving, and as he turned to see who it was, he found himself back in the smoky hallway. He couldn't see who it was through the smoke, but he started to follow anyway. At the end of the hall, Ron saw Ginny, fifteen years old, but wearing her Cannons uniform, mount a broom and take off. He grabbed another broom from the ground and took off after her. She wove through Gateway after Gateway, and each time he passed through one, the scenery changed: from Hogwarts to the Ministry of Magic's courtyard to the Burrow to the Forbidden Forest to the Quidditch field at Hogwarts. As Ginny hurtled towards the far end of the field, where the goalposts had been replaced with Gateways, someone hit her with a jet of red light. A now adult Ginny fell to the ground, and Ron turned his broom to see who attacked her. Malfoy. He laughed at Ron, taunting him. Ron accelerated the broom towards him and flung himself off the broom at Malfoy...  
  
...And landed with at resounding thud on the bedroom floor. He jerked back into wakefulness. Slowly picking himself up, he noticed that he had cut his hand on the broken glass from the picture. The pale moonlight reflected off the broken glass on the floor, throwing a spotted pattern of light on Ron and the wall behind him. He could just make out the figures of the people in the pictures, all of whom were peacefully dozing--all, that is, except for Mad-eye, who was twitching nervously even in the picture. As he moved back to bed, his door cracked open. Ron had to squint against the relative brightness of the light. After a moment, he adjusted and recognized the form in the doorframe as Dobby's.  
  
"Is the Wheezy alright, sir? What happened?" Dobby squeaked.  
  
"It's nothing, Dobby. I just fell out of bed." Ron tried to hide his cut hand from the house-elf.  
  
"You is not all right!" said Dobby, "is you wanting Dobby to get Harry Potter and..."  
  
"No, Dobby, really, I'm fine. I promise," said Ron, wrapping his hand in one of his many pillowcases. "I just had a bad dream, I think. That's all."  
  
"Is there nothing Dobby can do for you, sir?"  
  
"No, Dobby, I'm fine. Don't bother Harry and Hermione." Ron met Dobby's gaze for several seconds, trying to convince the eager house-elf that he really was fine. Finally, Dobby nodded.  
  
"Sleep well, then, sir. Dobby will see you in the morning."  
  
Dobby shut the door behind him as he left, leaving Ron in the darkness of the room. The pillowcase stuck to Ron's hand, but it seemed like the bleeding had slowed. He opened the door as quietly as he could with his good hand, and snuck down the hall to the bathroom.  
  
He ran the tap for a minute before putting his hand under it. The warm water stung a little bit, but the bleeding had stopped. As he was washing the blood off his hand, there was a light, tentative knock at the open door. Hermione poked her head in.  
  
"Ron, are you okay? I heard this crash...Oh, look at your hand!" she blurted. She rushed over to examine Ron's palm. "Hold on a sec," she said as she reached for her wand. She touched it to his hand, and the wound promptly sealed up. "Ron, what happened?"  
  
"It was nothing, really. I just fell, that's all."  
  
"How did you cut yourself falling out of bed? You were asleep a moment ago..."  
  
"How did you know I was asleep? What're you doing up? It's..." He looked for a clock, but found none. "It's late. Why aren't you asleep?"  
  
Hermione paused before answering. "I just couldn't sleep, that's all. Lots of excitement, I guess." She shrugged. "C'mon, Ron, let's have a drink. It'll calm us down." She turned and headed for the kitchen. Ron wordlessly followed.  
  
"What'll you have?" she asked, as she set a teapot of water on the burner. "I don't think you're a coffee drinker, but we've got tea--decaf, of course--or hot chocolate..."  
  
"Chocolate would be fine, thanks," said Ron. He settled into a chair at the table and let his eyes adjust to the light.  
  
Hermione sat next to him a moment later and handed him a steaming mug. He took a few sips, watching Hermione over the top of the mug as he did so. Her eyes were red...  
  
"Hermione, are you okay?" he said.  
  
She looked at him, giving him a strained smile. "I'm fine, Ron. Why..."  
  
"That's the second time you've given me that answer, Hermione, but you don't seem 'fine,'" said Ron. "Your eyes are red. Have you been crying, or...?"  
  
"I'm _fine_, Ron. OK? You don't have to worry about me!" Hermione seemed impatient this time.  
  
"Hermione, tell me what's wrong!"  
  
"Ron," she started. She held his gaze for a moment as her jaw moved up and down silently, then finished lamely, "I can't. You wouldn't..."  
  
"DON'T say I wouldn't understand, Hermione!"  
  
"Shhhhhh!" Hermione hissed. "Don't wake Harry." Ron glared at her. "Listen, I can't...it's..." She sighed heavily. "Ron, is this what you thought it would be?"  
  
"What? Is what what I thought it would be?"  
  
"This," she said, pointing around the room, "all of this. Life. Us. Me. Did everything turn out how you thought it would?" There was again impatience in Hermione's voice, but this time it was an eager impatience. She wanted to hear what Ron had to say.  
  
"Well, I dunno. It's different."  
  
"Different how?"  
  
"I dunno. I mean, I guess I always saw myself in the future, right? So that's different." Hermione smiled as Ron continued. "And my dad, Minister of Magic--that's really weird. Not bad, but just not what I thought. And I guess Ginny and Neville surprised me...so I guess you could say that no, the future isn't what I thought it would be."  
  
Hermione nodded, deep in thought. "What about me and Harry? Are we what you thought we'd be?"  
  
"Well, I guess so. You are--teacher and all, I guess I can't picture you anywhere but Hogwarts," he said. "But Harry...Harry's different. I can't figure out what I think of him..." He looked at Hermione, who was still nodding slightly, eyes closed. She opened them and looked at Ron.  
  
"That's the problem," she said, choking back a sob. Ron's stomach lurched. _Did I say the wrong thing?_  
  
"Harry is different, Ron. Well, I guess I can't really say that he's different, because he's changed less in the past ten years than in the six before that...How well do you remember the day we found the first Gate?"  
  
Ron wasn't expecting the question. "I remember it pretty well, Hermione. It was two days ago."  
  
"Oh, right. Well, then, you probably remember it even better than I do. But Harry...he was different that day, wasn't he?" Ron recalled the maniacal gleam Harry's eyes as he tried to operate the archway.  
  
"Yeah. He was crazy, when he recognized that archway...and then he was all sad and..."  
  
"Yes, Ron, thank you!" Hermione's eyes lit up. "That's what I thought, too. It wasn't the normal Harry. But after that day--that became Harry's normal. He was always angry or sad or tired or just plain down. I've seen him really happy only a handful of times in the past ten years-- isn't that awful? But after you died--well, sort of died, anyway--he was obsessed. We thought he was obsessed with that damn Gateway when all he had lost was Sirius. When you went, too, it was unbelievable. And only I could really reach him, Ron. You and I were always the only ones, and with you gone..."  
  
Ron really wasn't sure what to say. "Hermione, you don't think Harry's...off-kilter a bit, or anything, do you? Not dangerous?"  
  
Her instantaneous laughter both relieved and annoyed Ron. "Of course not. He may be a bit less happy with his life, but he's still, at the core, the Harry we both knew."  
  
"So what," asked Ron, "is the problem, exactly? Why are you so upset?"  
  
"I'm tired," she said, "that's all."  
  
"Tiredness? Why didn't you just say..."  
  
Hermione interrupted him and continued as if he had not spoken. "I'm tired of taking care of Harry. Ever since you died or whatever, I'm all Harry's had. Think about it. No parents. No godfather. No best friend. About the only constant in his life was Voldemort, and that was just because the two were destined to kill each other. I wanted to help Harry, I really did. I cared for him. I loved him. But it's been ten years, Ron, ten years of having to be his mother, his sister, his friend, his lover, his teacher, his student, his listener, his comforter, his nurse." She paused only long enough to catch her breath. "He's the most famous wizard of our day--maybe ever. He's the 'Boy Who Lived.' But that's all he had, Ron. His fame, his reputation, and you know him well enough to know that he didn't care about any of that. He needed all the things a family and friends could give him. And suddenly, one day, I was the only part of that left. I tried to meet all his needs. And you can see how fine a job I've done of that."  
  
Her shoulders sagged and she began to cry. Ron frantically searched for something to say, but he found nothing. He looked from Hermione, who was trying to hide her tears by pouring another mug of chocolate for Ron, to his own reflection in the window. _I look so childish_, he thought. _Of course, I'm not sure I'd want to look like Harry now_. He looked back to Hermione.  
  
"So...what are you going to do?" he finally managed to ask. "I can't really see what you want to do..."  
  
"Nothing," she said, rubbing her ring absentmindedly. "I'm going to do nothing. I love him, Ron. He's too much to handle, sometimes, but I love him anyway and I am going to keep trying to be everything he needs...but I can't help but feel like this isn't the way it's supposed to be. That's why I asked you. Your point of view would be different. Am I wrong, Ron? What should I do?"  
  
Caught off-guard by her questions, Ron stammered, "I don't really know. I mean..." he thought for a moment. "I mean, I guess I can't really tell you what to do, because I can't imagine what it's like to be in your shoes. It's like McGonagall today. When she mentioned me going back to Hogwarts, I was mad or something, because even though it made sense, it didn't to me, you know?" He paused. "Did that make any sense at all?"  
  
Hermione slowly smiled. "I really have missed you, you know that?" She forced eye contact. "Whenever Harry was hurt, or off on some adventure, or going crazy, I could always talk to you about it. I really missed that, you know?" Ron felt his ears burning again.  
  
"Glad to help, then," he said. An awkward silence settled over the room. Hermione pointed towards Ron's bloody pillowcase.  
  
"Ron, what happened to your hand?"  
  
"I was having a dream..." he started, "and I was sleepwalking or something. See, in the dream..." His eyes widened. "Hermione, what happened to Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Hermione hesitated before answering. "What's the last you've heard of him? I mean, how much do you know?"  
  
"You told me he let Voldemort and his cronies into Hogwarts. That was all."  
  
"Well," she said, a resigned look on her face, "during the attack, while Harry was locked away and the teachers were trying to protect the students, some of the members of the DA went on the offensive--it was stupid, but we were mad. That's when your sister and Neville became heroes. I, on the other hand, hunted Malfoy for the entire day." When she said his name, her face contorted into a mask of fury, a face Ron had never seen Hermione wear. She continued, "I never found him. He escaped. The Ministry wasn't able to account for all of Voldemort's Death Eaters and such, and they never found Draco. I don't think they thought much of him one way or the other.  
  
"So we don't know if he's dead or alive?"  
  
"No, we know he's alive. Or Harry and I do. So does Luna Lovegood, but she's not really in any position to tell..."  
  
"That's the second time I've heard her mentioned. What happened to her?"  
  
This time, there was no mistaking the hesitation on Hermione's face. She started to speak, though. "In the years following Voldemort's fall, Harry and I kind of went our separate ways. I mean, we saw each other lots- -we were both in country and all. But we didn't marry right away or anything. I mean, when we left Hogwarts, we were only 18, right? So while I went on to teach, Harry threw himself into Aeternus Gate research. Luna was helping him--she really believed that Harry's ideas held water. I didn't, then, but I didn't know how to tell Harry he was wasting his time. It was, after all, the only thing he could think about. So Harry worked on the mysteries of the archway, and Luna was his lab assistant, so to speak." She saw a question forming on Ron's lips and cut him off. "That's all they were. I know that for sure." Ron closed his mouth.  
  
"That's the way things were for over three years," she continued, "I taught, and Harry and Luna traveled the world over looking for information on Gates, or Gates themselves. They were so excited when they found a gate that could work! Luna got her father to carry a story on it and everything. The two of them thought they had worked out a way to get the Gate to work, so they made the preparations."  
  
"Preparations?"  
  
"Opening a Gate--and getting it to work--is tricky business. There's a lot of long-term spellcasting involved. They got me to help--that's when I first really learned about the things. Unfortunately, on the day of the event, we had a problem."  
  
Ron's eyebrows arched.  
  
"Malfoy," she said. "Draco--I don't know where the hell he came from, or where he had been--ambushed us. Somehow, he had learned when Harry and Luna were planning to open the gate. He thought it would be a perfect opportunity to return to a time before his master died and try to save him."  
  
"How did he find out? And how did he think he was going to be able to use the gate?"  
  
"Luna was under the Imperius Curse," she said. "Malfoy had gotten word of her experiments, so we guess he ambushed her and put her under the Imperius Curse. The actual day of the opening, though, Malfoy showed up at the Gate and tried to use me as a hostage instead. He thought--correctly, as it turns out--that Harry would be more likely to cooperate with Malfoy if I was in danger, rather than Luna. When he, ah, attacked me, Luna was able to break free from the Imperius Curse. Unfortunately, doing so drove her insane. She ended up like the Longbottoms." Ron gulped. He knew that the Longbottoms, Neville's parents, were tortured with the Crucatius Curse to the point of insanity.  
  
"So Luna's at St. Mungo's?"  
  
"We visit her every Christmas," said Hermione. "As she broke free, Draco's attention was divided, so Harry attacked. He and Draco fought each other—that's when Harry got that second scar. Well, in the end, Harry won, but not before Malfoy almost killed me."  
  
"You? Or Harry?"  
  
"Me. When Malfoy saw that he was beat, he attacked me, knowing it would distract Harry. While Harry tended to me, Malfoy escaped--he apparently had a Portkey as an escape route."  
  
"So Luna's insane, Malfoy's gone, and you're hurt?"  
  
"I hate to be melodramatic, but I was worse than hurt. I was just about dead. Harry nursed me...that's when he hired Dobby, you know. It was so he could spend more time with me. I guess that's when we realized how much we meant to each other..." she looked down at her ring, which she had subconsciously been rubbing, and smiled a little. "I suppose that sounds silly."  
  
Ron felt his ears burning and stared down at the floor and shrugged. "No, not really. I'm sure that was a tough time."  
  
"Yeah..." Hermione's voice trailed off as she cleared the table. "Ron...thank you."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I can already tell that having you back will be a good thing. For both me and Harry, really. I just hope you get along okay--not that I'm worried." She leaned over and gave Ron a hug. "Sleep well, Ron." 


	8. Mr Harry Potter

Disclaimer: If you asked JK Rowling if she owned all the characters, places, and concepts in the Harry Potter books, would her answer be the same as the one to this question? (Think about it...)  
  
Chapter 8  
-OR-  
"Mr. Harry Potter"  
  
On his way back to his room, Ron looked at the pictures on the walls. Although most of the people in the photographs were asleep, they showed a happy history of the past ten years--weddings, vacations, parties, graduations. Ron noticed one picture in particular that made him laugh; it seemed that as Minister of Magic, Umbridge had been forced to give Harry his commendation for defeating Voldemort. He could only imagine what _that_ scene must have been like.  
  
When he got back to his room, Ron picked up the photo of Harry, Hermione, and himself from the end of their second year. He knew the people in that picture, he could identify with them. He thought about what Hermione had asked him: _Did everything turn out how you thought it would?_  
  
He was not sure that he had ever imagined his father could be Minister of Magic, and Ginny had certainly surprised him, both by playing Quidditch and by marrying Neville. The rest of his family seemed to be pretty much like he thought it would--except for Percy.  
  
Harry and Hermione, though, were not at all what he expected. Harry was a tired old man at the age of 26, who had spent his entire life trying to reclaim lost loved ones and who had (unwittingly) exasperated the one loved person he had left. Hermione, who on the surface appeared exactly as Ron had imagined, was running herself down as she tried to support the man she loved. _In short_, thought Ron, _my two best friends end up miserable.  
_  
He huffed and plopped down on the bed. _Maybe it won't be all bad_, reasoned Ron, _I'm here now. Harry will have a friend back, and Hermione already said that she's glad I'm back_. There was nothing he could do about how the last ten years had turned out, but he could do his best to make the next ten good ones.

* * *

Sunlight poured in the window and woke Ron. Looking around for a clock, he saw that it was almost noon. Groggily, he sat up and listened for signs of Harry or Hermione below, but the house was silent. He got up and headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. What he saw there shocked him.  
  
The kitchen table had been overturned, and pots and pans were tossed carelessly around the room. There were several scorch marks on the walls, and the remains of breakfast were splattered on walls, floor, and ceiling.  
  
"Wh-wh-what happened?" asked Ron. Hearing no answer, he ran into the room and looked around for some sign of the disaster. Suddenly, he heard a squeaking voice.  
  
"Harry...Potter.."  
  
Ron turned and saw that Dobby was pinned under the massive table. Ron managed to shove it off the house-elf, but Dobby laid still. Finally, his eyes screwed up and he sighed heavily. He turned his large eyes towards Ron and said, "Harry...Potter. Danger, sir. Danger..."  
  
"Dobby, what happened? Are you all right?"  
  
"Danger...The Wheezy...danger," said Dobby again. As if to accentuate his warning, Ron heard a scream from the basement.  
  
"Hang on, Dobby, I'll be back!" Ron rushed off to the basement and saw a flash of light below. He began to go down the stairs, but stopped when he heard voices below.  
  
"Open the Gate, Potter. NOW. I'd hate to have to hurt Granger." The voice was unfamiliar. Ron decided to sneak, rather than charge, down the stairs.  
  
From halfway down the staircase, Ron could see into the Gate room clearly. A dark-robed, hooded figure stood in the middle of the room, near the Gate. He was holding Hermione with one hand and pointing a wand at her with the other. Harry was standing on the platform near the Gate's controls, staring malevolently at the hooded figure. No one noticed Ron on the stairs.  
  
"Don't, Har--" started Hermione, but the man muttered something and sparks shot out of his wand. Hermione let out a yelp of pain, then sagged a bit.  
  
"Poor Mudblood," said the man, "look at what you're doing to her. If you'd just open that Gate..." Ron could see Harry swallowing hard. Suddenly, Ron's forehead burned. His vision went black, and he felt himself crumpling on the staircase.  
  
Suddenly, he saw a quick series of pictures in his mind: two wands in the pocket of a black robe, a door that opened to reveal robes on hangers, and the robed man falling over. The images repeated a few times, then faded. Ron's normal vision slowly returned. He sat up and noticed, to his surprise and relief, that he was still unnoticed. Harry was trying to negotiate with the robed man, who kept barking commands at Harry. Ron looked more closely at the robed man and saw the ends of two wands sticking out of his pocket. Ron, suddenly understanding, ran back up the stairs.  
  
He flew into Harry's and Hermione's bedroom, looking for the door he had seen in the vision. He opened the first door he found. He could tell from the sizes and colors he was in the wrong one. He looked in the next closet. _There we go...Harry's..._ Rummaging madly through the hangers, Ron thought he might have made a mistake. Suddenly, he saw a very familiar, shimmering, silvery gray cloak. Smiling, Ron put it on.

* * *

Harry glared at the man under the cloak. "Kill me," he said. "I'm not opening this Gate for you."  
  
"No, Potter, I won't make it that easy for you. I'd kill Granger first, and I'd torture her before I'd kill her. I think both of those are more...persuasive. I'll give you to the count of three."  
  
Harry looked to Hermione. Her eyes told him what he knew she would say: Don't help him.  
  
"One."  
  
He knew that he couldn't allow himself to be manipulated like this-- the consequences of giving in were too great. But he couldn't bear to see her hurt again...  
  
"Two."  
  
If he gave in, though, everyone he knew would die...would cease to exist. He couldn't let that happen.  
  
"Thr--" the man managed to get out. Mid-word, he fell over like something hit him. Ron tumbled out of the Invisibility Cloak and wrestled the man's wand away from him. As they scuffled on the floor, Ron managed to knock free Harry's and Hermione's wands. Ron rolled off his opponent and stood. As his adversary rose, the two fighters looked at each other stopped.  
  
"Weasley?"  
  
"Snape?" It was hard to tell which of the two was more surprised. Ron stared at his former teacher with an open mouth and a blank look. Snape gaped at his former student with a look of shock and disgust. Snape suddenly regained control of his body and punched Ron. Ron landed hard on the ground, dazed. Snape lurched for his wand, and Ron tried to kick it away. The older man's longer reach prevailed, and he whipped around and aimed his wand at Harry.  
  
Hermione, however, had retrieved both her own wand as well as Harry's and shouted "Expelliarmus!"  
  
Snape flung himself on the ground and dodged the spell. He growled something Ron was not able to hear, and Hermione flew through the air and hit the wall. She collapsed and laid still. Ron leapt onto Snape's back, and tried to take his wand from him. Snape flipped Ron over his shoulder, and Ron landed with a thud in front of Snape.  
  
Glaring down at him, Snape pointed his wand towards Ron. "Die," he said simply. Ron heard the words "Adava Kedavra" and saw a flash of green light...  
  
Snape crumpled onto him. Shoving his body aside, Ron stood and saw Harry, wand still quivering, staring at Snape's fallen form. His friend stood there, statuesque, for a long moment. Then he rushed to Hermione's side.  
  
"Harry...you just...what happened? Is she...?" Ron moved towards Harry, who was now cradling Hermione's limp body. He looked up at Ron through cracked glasses.  
  
"No. She's not dead. Not that it matters."  
  
"What do you _mean_ it doesn't matter?" Ron was furious. "Do you realize how much she cares for you? Do you know what you've put her through?"  
  
Harry stood and looked Ron in the eyes. "Yes, Ron, I do. Which is why it doesn't matter. You have to go back."  
  
"Huh?" Ron looked from Harry to Hermione. Then Harry started to move to the Gate.  
  
"You have to go back. To when you were," said Harry simply. He stopped by Snape's body and kicked it.  
  
"Harry, I thought you said you couldn't do that! And what's Snape doing here? I thought he died! And Hermione--we should get help..."  
  
"Ron, no. Listen to me." Harry walked back to Ron and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. "I'm going to use that Gate to send you back to the day you came here. Then none of this," he said, pointing at the aftermath around him, "will ever have happened. There will never have been an attack, so Hermione won't be hurt."  
  
"I thought you said that was not a good thing--going back, I mean. It would cause everyone alive to be...uh, gone."  
  
"That's exactly what will happen," said Harry. "But what sort of a loss is it? Ron...my whole life has been miserable since you died. Death and loss. That's all I've accomplished in the past ten years..."  
  
"You married Hermione!"  
  
"And caused her to suffer even more than I do. Yes, Ron, I know how much she does for me. I love her Ron. She deserves better. She wouldn't have married me if...well, maybe if you go back...maybe then she can be happy. I know I will be happier when you get back, if that makes any sense."  
  
"But...what..." Ron blustered. The events of the morning were still too confusing.  
  
"Look...I'll explain as I prepare the Gate, okay?" Harry bustled off and lifted one of the books off his desk. He paged through it, looking for some spell or another. "Snape is here because he wanted to do what Malfoy wanted to do five years ago. He wanted to go back and aid Voldemort." Ron nodded. He had guessed as much.  
  
"But I thought Snape was dead."  
  
"So did I. So did everyone. This morning was the first time he's been seen for nine years." He started to wave his wand and Ron saw a dim glow in the archway. "I guess it was one of Dumbledore's few mistakes. He thought Snape was to be trusted. He was wrong."  
  
"Why did he trust Snape?"  
  
"Snape was a Death Eater the first time around, right? He was a loyal supporter of Voldemort. But he had a secret that could have been deadly."  
  
"Which was?"  
  
Harry absentmindedly rummaged through one of the scrolls. "He was in love with a Muggle-born witch. Such fondness for a "Mudblood" could have gotten him killed. In the end, though, that love was more important to him than his allegiance to Voldemort."  
  
"He ran off with the witch?"  
  
"No, she was married already. But he turned traitor to Voldemort for her sake."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"He told Dumbledore that Voldemort knew about the prophecy and was coming to kill me." He waited as Ron tried to understand what he was saying. "He loved my mother. Don't worry--it was a one-way thing. But even though he hated my dad and he overall supported Voldemort, he couldn't allow my mother to come to harm. So that's why Dumbledore trusted him. He thought Voldemort's killing my mum would be enough to keep him on our side. He also thought that my being her son would keep Snape from killing me."  
  
Ron looked at his fallen Potions master. He found it hard to believe that Snape could have loved anyone. There was a bright pulse from the archway; the glow had intensified.  
  
"The day I thought Snape died, he was in fact going back to Voldemort's service. Voldemort, through his mental connection to Snape, had intensified his hatred of my father--and me--to the point where he was willing to go back to the service of the Dark Lord. Voldemort kept him in hiding, so that he could exploit his killed-in-action status, like Wormtail did. I defeated him before his plans could come to fruition, and Snape had to wait. Five years ago, he met up with Malfoy and they planned the last attack. This time, Snape wasn't going to take chances by sending Malfoy."  
  
"How did he find out about this?" asked Ron, pointing at the Gate. There was now a slight breeze in the room, as if the Gate was sucking in air.  
  
"Neville. He was late yesterday--that was because Snape had used the Floo network to get into Neville's office and put him under the Imperius Curse. He learned that I had a Gate, but it was just my lousy luck that he was here at a time when we had made the preparations to actually open it."  
  
Ron walked up to the control panel. "Harry, does this actually do anything?" He pointed at the button. Harry nodded.  
  
"It does. It's the most important part, the part that actually opens the Gate."  
  
"How come I can't push it?"  
  
"It's not a button," said Harry. He moved back to Hermione and picked her up. He moved her closer to the Gate. "It's a keyhole."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It's a keyhole. You need a key to open the Gate."  
  
"Do you have it?" Ron looked through the archway, which was now shining, rather than glowing.  
  
"I do. Well, _she_ does," said Harry. He looked up to Ron. "See, after the last attack, I realized it would not be safe if one person alone could open the Gate. An Imperius Curse could undo us all. So..." He took Hermione's hand and removed her wedding ring. "I gave Hermione the key."  
  
He stepped up on the platform and put the ring around the "button." It slid into the panel noiselessly. The ring glowed for a moment, then disappeared as the control panel turned completely solid. Then, with a clinking sound, the ring dropped out of the underside of the control panel onto the floor. Harry picked it up and handed it to Ron.  
  
"Here. Take it," he said. As he dropped the ring in Ron's hand, Ron noticed that it was no longer gold, but that it matched the stone of the control panel. After a moment, a slight band of gold appeared around the edges of the ring.  
  
"Harry...I...I don't know what to..."  
  
"It's set. Just step through it. Either you'll be right back where you started...or..."  
  
"Or what?"  
  
"Or...well, it won't matter. As soon as you step through that Gate, I'll disappear anyway."  
  
"Harry..." Words failed Ron as he looked at his friend. Harry was less old now than Ron had yet seen him. Ron reached out and hugged Harry. "Thanks, mate," he said.  
  
"Hey," said Harry. "Did you ever have any doubts?"  
  
"No," said Ron, "you're the same old Harry."  
  
"See you in a minute, buddy," said Harry. He turned and knelt by Hermione's side. Ron gave the room one last look.  
  
"In a minute, then."  
  
He stepped through the Gate. 


	9. Again Today

Disclaimer: Here's a bonus little fanfic for all of you, just for sticking with my story: "Once upon a time, there was a woman named JK Rowling. She held property rights to all the Harry Potter material in the world. Also, once upon a time, there was a fanfic author named PA Mills. He didn't own anything of the sort. The end."  
  
Chapter 9  
-OR-  
"Again Today"  
  
Harry came to in the infirmary. He jerked up quickly, then sank back in to his bed even more quickly as his entire body exploded in pain. His eyes frantically searched for some sign of his friends. As he opened his mouth to speak, Madam Pomfrey hurried over towards him and made "shhhhh"noises.  
  
"No, no, Mr. Potter. You've had a nasty shock. Don't try to speak."  
  
"Wh..." he managed to get out before she cut him off.  
  
"Mr. Potter, please. Try to remain quiet." Madam Pomfrey bustled off to attend to the student in the bed next to Harry. He tried to turn his head to see who, exactly, that was, but his neck hurt too much. His efforts were again interrupted, but this time by Professor McGonagall, who did not look at all happy about the current situation.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she began, in a very business-like tone, "you are lucky to be alive." Harry managed to groan in acknowledgement. She continued, "Professor Dumbledore will want to speak to you personally when you are able to leave the infirmary. Until then, do exactly as Madam Pomfrey tells you to do when she tells you to do it. Am I understood?" Harry managed to groan again.  
  
Suddenly, McGonagall's face softened. "I don't know how you survived that blast, Mr. Potter, but I'm amazed you did. You have a remarkable ability to survive..."  
  
"Professor," he managed to croak, "Hermione...Ron....are they okay?" He was not encouraged when McGonagall's face resumed its normal business- like look.  
  
"Your friends..." she started, "Miss Granger is doing well. She was far enough away from the explosion that she will be fine."  
  
"Ron...?" Harry whispered.  
  
"Mr. Weasley shows perhaps an even greater capability for the miraculous than you do. He shielded you from the main impact of the blast, yet he is better off than you are. You are lucky to have such a friend. However, Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak with him. He is in the Headmaster's office now." She turned and marched out of the room. Harry, too stunned even to speak, sank back onto the pillows, and enjoyed the first dreamless slumber he'd had in months.

* * *

Ron snuggled down into the blankets and pillows heaped around him on the sofa in Dumbledore's office. The headmaster, perched pontifically in his chair behind his desk, looked at Ron over the top of his half-moon glasses.  
  
"Are you comfortable, Ron?" said Dumbledore.  
  
Although his return trip through the Gate had been very easy, Ron felt the need to fake little bit of an injury. "Yes, sir. Still a little bit stiff. But how are Harry and Hermione?"  
  
"They will both be fine, once Madam Pomfrey is done with them. You need not worry about them," Dumbledore said. Ron waited for him to say more, and when he did not, Ron asked,  
  
"Sir, why did you have me brought to your office?"  
  
"I thought that there might be something you would rather like to talk about," he replied. Ron searched his face for some trace of whether or not Dumbledore knew. _But how could he know?_  
  
"Oh, Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry that we disturbed that Gat—er, that thing," said Ron.  
  
"You need not apologize, Ron. Indeed, I apologize to you, and will apologize to the entire school for my folly of keeping it here. I should have known better than to store a potentially dangerous magical artifact where you and your friends would find it. No, I thought there might be something...else," he said.  
  
Ron hadn't had much time to consider what he was going to do once he got "home," as far as telling other people went. He wasn't sure if anyone would believe him, for one, and he suspected that he might be in trouble, so he thought it best to keep quiet. On the other hand, if he could alert Dumbledore about Snape, or Malfoy...he could even save Fudge from assassination! He could change it all...but who would believe a sixteen-year- old wizard who claimed to have seen the future?  
  
Dumbledore interrupted Ron's thoughts. "I do not wish to tire you, after your ordeal. If you wish, you can go and rest in the infirmary--or your room, for that matter. You are well enough." Realizing that Dumbledore knew he was not, in fact, injured, Ron sat up. Dumbledore continued, "However, if you did have anything to say..." Ron remained silent. "Very well, then," said Dumbledore, "you may go." Ron got up to leave. As he reached the door, he heard Dumbledore call,  
  
"Mr. Weasley, could you please explain why you are in your pajamas?" Ron stood still, then slowly turned to face Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"I was rather wondering why you changed out of the robes I had seen you wearing to breakfast earlier today when you decided to snoop through the castle." Dumbledore had, if anything, an amused look on his face. Ron looked down at his dirty, ripped pajamas. He hadn't really considered changing his clothes before he came back.  
  
"Professor...I..." started Ron. _Will he think I'm crazy?_ "I don't think...er...do you know if there was anything _odd_ about the explosion today?"  
  
"Mr. Weasley, you, Harry, and Hermione were the only ones present. I know little."  
  
Ron's mind raced to find an appropriate excuse.  
  
"But I suspect much, Ron. And I suspect that you know that there was something odd about the explosion." Dumbledore reached and pushed a large book across his desk towards Ron, who recognized it as the one Harry had looked in before sending him through the Gate.  
  
"Professor...I think I went to the future," blurted Ron, taking his seat again. _Maybe he'll understand_, he thought.  
  
"Did you?" There was no look of disbelief on his face. Ron thought, if anything, Dumbledore looked slightly more amused.  
  
"I told you, I think I did. Is that possible?"  
  
"It is, Ron. If you say you went to the future, I believe you," Dumbledore said.  
  
Now that he was speaking with someone who believed his story and took it seriously—especially someone as wise as Dumbledore—Ron's mind was filled with a thousand questions. Finally, he asked, "is what I saw...really going to happen?"  
  
Dumbledore paused before answering, and Ron felt a pit growing in his stomach. All he could think about was that in the future, his two best friends were unhappy, and he didn't want that.  
  
"Ron, what I am about to say is very important," said Dumbledore. Ron looked up at his headmaster. "Because I was not with you, I cannot fully explain what you saw. But if you did go into the future—or even saw visions—it is by no means certain that what you saw must come to pass."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Whatever you saw happened because of events between now and then. Surely, while you were in the future, you learned of some of these things?" Ron nodded a little. "Then," continued Dumbledore, "you could change those things, if you like. Events of the future are not absolute—if they were, Divination would be a far more exact art. No, Ron, your choices, and the choices of your friends, and the choices of every person today make up what the future will be, and now that you've seen one future, you will make your decisions for the next one accordingly."  
  
"You make it sound like there are many possibilities for what may come."  
  
"There are, Ron. Some wizards even believe that all possibilities do happen, someplace."  
  
Ron mulled over his headmaster's words. "So I could change the future?" he said finally.  
  
"Ron, your being here already changes that future. What you saw will not necessarily come to pass."  
  
"But it might?"  
  
"It might. But it is not likely." Dumbledore sighed. "I am sorry, Ron, that I cannot give you more answers."  
  
Dumbledore's demeanor suddenly changed. His amused serenity was gone; now he looked tired or defeated. It reminded Ron of how Harry had looked in the future. "Ron, I cannot answer all of your questions. You have had an experience unlike any most people ever have. I can tell you only this: I believe events happen for a reason. They may not make us happy, but there is reason behind them."  
  
Ron stared glumly at the floor. "So what I saw...I should let happen?"  
  
"No, those things that you saw happened for a reason. But realize that your seeing those things--those people--also had a reason. Perhaps you are to change what you saw. That is your challenge. That is what you must decide." Dumbledore rose and helped Ron to his feet.  
  
"Thanks, I guess, Professor." Ron headed for the door, Dumbledore's words ringing in his ears. He felt his hand on his shoulder and turned.  
  
"Ron, when I found you in the Room of Requirement, you were clutching this," said Dumbledore. He held out Hermione's wedding ring, which had turned back to gold. "I thought that it might be important to you." He put it in Ron's hand. "Have a good afternoon, Mr. Weasley."

* * *

Ron stepped into the Gryffindor common room quietly. No one looked up or noticed him. _Word of the explosion might not have spread yet_, thought Ron. He looked around the room and smiled as he saw a large stack of books on a desk. He walked over to it and saw Hermione scribbling furiously on some parchment. She looked up with a start.  
  
"Ron! You're all right!" she said. She jumped up and gave him a hug. When Ron didn't say anything, she looked at him again. "Ron, is there something wrong?"  
  
"No, I'm just..." Ron laughed a bit. "...Tired." He looked at Hermione for a long moment, then said suddenly, "I have something for you."  
  
"Wh..what? Why? It's not my birthday or anything..."  
  
"Yeah, I know. It's hard to explain. Just...just take my gift as it is, will you? I know it could have some meanings to it, but...just take it, OK?" Hermione gave Ron another confused look. He held out the ring.  
  
"Ron," she said, taking it from him, "it's very nice...where did you get it?"  
  
A look of deep thought crossed Ron's face, then a smile crept across it. "A very good, old friend gave it to me. I think it's for you, though."  
  
"Well, then," she said, slipping the ring around her finger, "thanks, Ron. It fits perfectly! How did you know?"  
  
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it." The two of them looked down at the ring, Ron with a contented smile, Hermione with a look of amused puzzlement. "Well," said Ron, "shall we go visit Harry?"  
  
"Let's," said Hermione. The two walked off to the infirmary to see their friend.

* * *

**Author's Final Note**: Thanks for reading, folks. That's the end of the story--but for those interested, I can tell you that this will probably not be the last you see of the Aeternus...


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